THE 

GR©PES5> 


HENRY  G.  JM'/.f to 


THE  GROPER 


THE   GROPER 


BY 


HENRY  G.  AIKMAN  *w«*A 


(\k/1'Ya£h*~»ubsj  ^>Wt^vX    A^vxJSjt^ 


? 


BONI    AND    LIVERIGHT 
New    York  I9j9 


Copyright,  19 19, 
By  Boni  &  Liveright,  Inc. 


All  rights  reserved 

including  the  Scandinavian 


Printed  in  the  U.S.A. 


TO 
ADA    M. 

WHO  HELPS  ME  KEEP  ON  GROPING 

H.  G.  A, 


753658 


>      » 


V/MUiJ   •♦•*• 


THE  GROPER 


PART  ONE, 

I 

LEE  HILLQUIT  never  quite  lost  the  vivid  impressions 
of  that  last  Sunday  afternoon  at  Chatham.  Later 
on  in  life,  he  had  only  to  close  his  eyes  to  visualise 
the  whole  familiar  scene — and  with  it,  all  his  delicate, 
soaring  happiness. 

Below  them,  at  the  foot  of  the  hill — euphemistically 
known  as  Mount  Phillis — Lake  Chatham  stretched  off  in 
the  form  of  a  casual  letter  S.  Two  miles  north,  at  the 
very  head  of  the  lake,  they  could  make  out  the  town  itself: 
its  three  church  spires  piercing  the  surf  of  green  leaves; 
the  cupola  of  the  courthouse  dominating  the  other  down- 
town buildings;  and  off  to  the  extreme  right,  the  tall,  brick 
smokestack  of  the  Chatham  Dairy  Company. 

Lee  felt,  rather  than  took  direct  note  of,  this  sunlit  pan- 
orama. All  his  conscious  faculties — his  whole  being — were 
focussed  upon  the  very  pretty  girl  who  sat  at  his  right,  a 
foot  higher  up  the  hill.  Lee,  half  reclining  on  the  grass, 
supporting  himself  on  his  elbow,  looked  up  into  her  eyes 
and  doubted  if  so  wonderful  a  person  had  ever  lived  before. 

Vera  Wakefield  did  not  return  Lee's  devotional  gaze,  but 
instead  contemplated  the  lake  below,  with  a  preoccupied 
expression  that  seemed  faintly  wistful. 


2  THE  GROPER 

How  profitless  to  £et  about  describing  an  elusive  personal 
charm  1  Details  come  easily  enough:  Vera's  features,  for 
example,  were  'good,  U  not  distinctive;  her  abundant,  neatly 
coiffured  hair,  a  light,  lustreless  brown;  her  eyes  clear  blue, 
yet  indefinably  nebulous  at  times.  She  had  a  way  of  looking 
up  at  people — the  white  of  her  eye  showing  beneath  the 
iris — with  an  effect  of  appealing  trustfulness.  Her  skin  re- 
mained brown  with  summer  tan;  and  on  each  cheek  were 
sprinkled  a  few  honest  freckles.  But  such  minutice  lament- 
ably fail  to  capture  the  real  Vera.  Very  likely  her  attrac- 
tiveness was  partly  compounded  of  her  freshness,  her  youth, 
her  flaming  healthfulness — and  partly  of  that  vague  air  of 
smartness  that  most  young  American  girls  somehow  achieve. 
Nothing  could  have  been  more  informal  than  Vera's  cos- 
tume— low-collared  blouse,  navy-blue  skirt,  tan  stockings 
and  pumps;  yet  nothing  could  have  suggested  a  more 
alluring  trimness. 

To  an  idealistic  youth  of  twenty-three,  however,  all  such 
speculation  would  have  seemed  worse  than  futile.  Lee 
Hillquit  could  not  possibly  have  analysed  the  emotion  that 
suffused  him.  He  only  knew  he  loved  Vera  unreservedly-^ 
with  a  shy,  spiritual  sort  of  love. 

At  length,  she  broke  the  silence. 

"To-morrow,  at  this  time,  you'll  be  in  Detroit." 

"Yes."  Lee  followed  her  gaze  across  Lake  Chatham. 
"And  I  don't  dare  think  how  I'm  going  to  miss  you." 

They  watched  a  billowy  white  cloud — its  scalloped  edges 
sharply  defined  against  the  blue  September  sky — come 
swiftly  up  over  the  hills  that  bordered  the  west  bank  of  the 
lake. 

Abruptly,  he  took  her  soft,  well-formed  hand  in  his 

"Are  you  going  to  marry  me,  Vera?"  he  asked. 

He  felt  a  quiver  go  through  her  hand  and  arm,  and 
looked  up  into  her  face  again. 

"Well?"  he  queried. 


THE  GROPER  3 

Vera  sighed.  "You  know  I  love  you,  dear  boy.  Isn't 
that  enough  for  now?" 

Lee  sat  up  quickly.  "But  if  you  do  love  me,  why  is  it 
you  won't  promise  to  marry  me?" 

She  closed  her  eyes  and  made  no  reply.  A  faint,  uncon- 
vincing smile  came  into  her  face.  When  she  opened  her 
eyes  a  moment  later,  Lee  fancied  a  peculiar  wetness  in 
them. 

"There  are  some  things  I  can't  explain,"  she  made 
cryptic  response — and  all  at  once  Lee  felt  years  younger 
than  she.  "You  know  I  love  you,  and  always  will.  There's 
nobody  else." 

"But " 

She  checked  him.  "Of  course,  if  it  will  make  you  any 
happier  for  me  to  promise " 

""Any  happier  I"  He  caught  her  in  his  arms.  "Why,  if 
you  didn't  promise,  I  declare  I'd  give  right  up — not  even 
start  for  Detroit." 

Vera  threw  him  a  tenderly  appraising  glance.  She  could 
never  help  feeling  the  slightest  bit  maternal  toward  this 
strange  rare  lover  of  hers — with  his  high  forehead  and  straw- 
colored,  wispy  hair;  his  diffident  grey  eyes;  and  most 
noteworthy  of  all,  his  sensitive,  whimsical,  talented  mouth. 
She  loved  him — that  was  certain  enough;  yet  he  puzzled 
her.  Sometimes  he  said  unintelligible  things.  Unassertive- 
ness  was  almost  a  weakness  in  him;  he  had  no  faculty  for 
pushing  himself  forward.    A  most  lovable  visionary. 

"You're  funny,"  she  said. 

But  Lee's  high  spirits  had  entirely  returned. 

"We  won't  have  to  wait  long,  my  dearest.  Once  I  get 
to  the  city,  there  won't  be  any  holding  me.  In  less  than 
a  year's  time " 

Vera  looked  skeptical.  "I  surely  hope  so,  but  you 
mustn't  expect  too  much  in  the  beginning." 


4  THE  GROPER 

His  introspective  eyes  lighted  up,  and  he  leaned  forward 
eagerly. 

"I  mean  it,  Vera — every  word  of  it.  There  won't  be  any 
holding  me.  There's  nothing  to  success  but  hard  work;  and 
with  you  to  work  for — knowing  that  every  minute  I  waste 
means  waiting  for  you  just  that  much  longer — why,  no 
power  on  earth  can  keep  me  from  being  successful." 

"It  does  sound  simple,"  admitted  Vera. 

"The  simplest  thing  in  the  world.  Life  itself  is  simple. 
There's  just  one  rule:  Success  comes  to  the  man  who 
works  for  it — the  man  who  deserves  it.  A  man  can  get 
anything  he  wants  in  life — provided  he  wants  it  hard 
enough." 

"Just  what  is  it  you're  going  to  try  for?"  Vera  interposed. 
"Money?" 

Lee  looked  a  little  bewildered  by  this  demand  for  definite 
information.  "Money?  Yes,  I  want  to  make  money  first 
of  all,  so  that  I  can  marry  you.  But  I  want  to  count  for 
something  in  the  world,  besides." 

"I've  thought  at  times,"  Vera  reverted,  "that  you'd  never 
make  much  money." 

Lee  laughed  confidently.  "Oh,  I'll  make  enough,  I  guess." 
Then  his  enthusiasm  re-possessed  him.  "I  can  hardly  wait 
to  get  to  the  city.  Think  of  it! — thousands  of  people  on 
the  streets — skyscrapers — every  chance  in  the  world  to  make 
goodl    It's  the  Big  Adventure!" 

Some  remnant  of  Vera's  dubiousness  flickered.  "It 
doesn't  do  to  be  too  much  of  an  idealist." 

He  was  conscious  of  a  great,  charitable  wisdom.  "Ideals, 
dear,  are  what  make  the  world  go  round.  If  a  man  trusts 
people — looks  for  the  very  best  in  them — he  won't  be 
disappointed." 

For  a  time  they  were  silent,  both  of  them  again  a  little 
depressed  at  the  thought  of  parting.  The  sun  had  set 
behind  the  low  hills  to  the  left,  and  already  the  first  pre- 


THE  GROPER  5 

monition  of  twilight  crept  up  the  eastern  sky.  From  the 
town  two  miles  north  came  the  sound  of  church-bells,  melan- 
choly and  mellow.  There  were  two  bells,  one  in  the 
Congregational  church,  the  other  in  the  Methodist.  They 
alternated  with  each  other,  as  if  in  friendly  rivalry. 

Vera  smiled.  "I  begged  off  from  the  Young  People's 
Meeting  to-night.    I  told  mother  this  was  your  last  night." 

Presently  he  moved  closer.  Answering  the  appeal  in  his 
eyes,  she  slowly  bent  down  to  his  lips.  They  kissed  each 
other  softly,  tenderly,  almost  reverently. 

"Keep  your  arms  around  me,"  Vera  whispered  tensely. 
"Never  let  me  go  I    Never — no  matter  what  I  say  or  do  I" 

"My  wonderful  sweetheart!"  he  said. 

It  seemed  to  him  that  she  held  him  more  tightly  than 
ever  before;  bound  him  to  her  with  a  fierce  urgency,  as  if 
she  were  afraid  of  losing  him,  as  if  she  were  fighting  for 
him. 


n 

IT  was  after  eight  o'clock  and  quite  dark  when  Vera  and 
Lee  finally  reached  the  outskirts  of  the  village  of  Chat- 
ham. Ever  more  slowly,  they  crossed  Main  Street,  with 
its  two  blocks  of  store-fronts  and  well-gnawed  hitching  rails; 
cut  "kitty  corner"  down  across  the  square,  past  the  court- 
house and  the  jail,  and  approached  the  massive  old-fashioned 
brick  house  where  the  Wakefields  lived. 

All  at  once  they  caught  sight  of  a  horse  and  trim  phaeton 
standing  in  the  road  opposite  the  house. 

Vera  gave  an  impatient  exclamation:  "Oh  bother!" 

Lee  recognised  the  rig  as  belonging  to  a  youth  named 
Milo  Higginson,  who  had  lately  developed  an  obvious  inter- 
est in  Vera.  Lee  knew  young  Higginson  slightly,  and  con- 
sidered him  a  sullen  and  unprepossessing  lout.  Milo's  father, 
however,  owned  the  Higginson  State  Bank  in  the  nearby 
town  of  Record,  and  was  the  most  important  financial  figure 
in  the  county.  Milo  basked  in  reflected  glory.  He  wore 
tailor-made  clothes  and  had  more  money  to  spend  than  any 
three  Chatham  swains. 

But  Vera  looked  disconsolate.  "I'm  terribly  sorry,"  she 
professed. 

Lee's  perfect  happiness  prompted  quick  magnanimity.  It 
did  not  even  occur  to  him  to  think  of  Milo  Higginson  as  a 
rival. 

"That's  all  right,"  he  hastened.    "I  understand  how  it  is." 

"You  know  mother,"  sighed  Vera. 

Lee  nodded.    Mrs.  Wakefield  completely  dominated  her 

6 


THE  GROPER  7 

daughter — and  even  her  husband,  the  placid  phlegmatic 
Chatham  druggist,  Roscoe  Wakefield. 

"It's  all  right,  Vera,"  he  repeated.  "What's  more,  don't 
think  I  expect  you  to  stay  alone  every  night  this  winter.  I'd 
much  rather  have  you  go  out  and  enjoy  yourself." 

By  this  time,  they  had  reached  the  Wakefield  house. 
Peering  toward  the  wide  front  porch,  Lee  descried  the 
figure  of  a  man  and  woman. 

"Veral"  called  out  Mrs.  Wakefield's  voice  sharply. 

"Yes,  mother."  Vera  turned  impulsively  to  Lee.  "You're 
the  only  one  I  love — the  only  one  I  will  ever  love." 

Lee's  ecstasy  reached  its  apogee.  "I  trust  you  implicitly, 
dear,"  he  said,  then  turned  away  quickly. 

Three  minutes  later  he  was  home. 

The  Hillquit  house  was  a  nondescript  one-story  frame 
structure,  well  set  back  from  the  street.  Its  unpre- 
tentibusness  closely  reflected  the  family's  economic  status. 
Lee's  father,  Joseph  Hillquit — now  dead  for  more  than  five 
years — had  come  to  Chatham  shortly  after  Lee's  birth,  to 
establish  the  "Chatham  Republican,"  a  weekly  newspaper. 
Even  at  the  time  of  his  death,  when  the  town  had  attained 
the  proud  population  of  twenty-five  hundred,  the  "Repub- 
lican" was  only  a  half-hearted  financial  success.  Lee's 
earliest  memories  concerned  his  father's  money  worries.  In 
those  first  years,  Hillquit,  Sr.,  had  entertained  vast  hopes, 
not  only  of  material  prosperity,  but  also  of  prominence  and 
political  influence.  He  was  a  man  with  a  natural  pre- 
disposition toward  pessimism,  and  as  it  gradually  came  home 
to  him  that  his  high  ambitions  were  never  to  be  realised — 
when  he  found  himself  doomed  to  the  mediocrity  of  a  village 
editorship — he  became  a  misanthrope  outright. 

A  family  is  a  closely-knit  unit;  the  effect  of  one  member's 
mood  is  incalculable — especially  the  mood  of  the  family's 
dominant  head.  Joseph  Hillquit  unwittingly  vented  his 
bitterness  of  soul,  his  grudge  against  the  world,  upon  his 


8  THE  GROPER 

wife  and  adolescent  son.  He  scoffed  and  sneered  the  light- 
heartedness  out  of  them.  It  was  as  if  they  were  all  living  in 
an  unventilated  room  of  poisonous,  over-heated  air.  Mrs. 
Hillquit  took  refuge  in  silence  and  apparent  acquiescence, 
and  young  Lee  in  time  found  it  less  frictional  to  suppress 
his  youthful  exuberance  and  optimism. 

Had  any  one  accused  him  of  being  anything  but  a  model 
Husband  and  father,  the  editor  of  the  "  Republican"  would 
have  displayed  indignant  resentment.  In  all  outward  forms, 
indeed,  he  fulfilled  his  family  obligations.  He  fed,  clothed 
and  housed  his  dependents  at  the  cost  of  long,  confining 
hours  and  extreme  fatigue.  He  was  faithful  to  his  wife; 
he  never  raised  a  hand  against  his  boy.  For  fifteen  years, 
moreover,  he  somehow  kept  up  the  premiums  on  a  life 
insurance  policy,  which  now  paid  his  widow  an  annuity  of 
a  thousand  dollars. 

That  was  the  pathos  of  his  life.  He  "did  his  duty"  by 
his  family,  and  never  once  suspected  that  he  was  inflicting  a 
subtle,  insidious  wrong  upon  them.  When  he  died,  his  wife 
and  eighteen-year-old  son  mourned  for  him  sincerely — and 
yet  they  felt,  subconsciously,  as  though  a  window  had  been 
opened  in  their  stifled  lives.  Mrs.  Hillquit,  just  past  forty, 
never  quite  escaped  her  settled  attitude  of  subdued  and 
worried  submissiveness.  Her  eyes  seldom  lost  their  expres- 
sion of  slight  apprehensiveness.  She  had  become  irrevocably 
negative.  But  youth  is  buoyant,  resilient;  and  young  Lee, 
then  in  his  senior  year  at  high  school,  came  to  the  surface 
like  a  drowning  animal  that  has  at  last  freed  itself  of  the 
stone  tied  to  its  neck.  He  became  articulate,  self-expressive. 
Acting  from  some  wise  instinct,  his  mother  abetted  the 
transformation.  With  the  proceeds  from  the  sale  of  the 
"Republican"  she  sent  him  to  the  University.  No  Chatham 
limitations  for  her  son,  even  though  it  meant  self-denial 
and  four  years  of  loneliness  for  her!  And  her  reward  was 
that  Lee  Hillquit,  just  graduated,  his  old  scars  almost  van- 


THE  GROPER  9 

ished,  had  become  as  self-confident  and  idealistic,  albeit 
unsophisticated,  a  youth  as  ever  restlessly  awaited  his  cue 
in  the  wings  of  Life's  big  stage. 

Lee  found  the  house  deserted  and  dark,  save  for  the 
swinging  kerosene  lamp  that  burned  low  in  the  dining-room. 
His  mother  was  at  the  Methddist  church,  he  knew.  He 
proceeded  directly  to  his  little  room  in  one  of  the  rear 
corners  of  the  house,  and  began  to  pack  his  trunk.  His 
train  left  early  the  next  morning,  and  he  planned  to  com- 
plete all  preparations  that  night. 

Presently  he  came  upon  an  old,  cloth-bound  book,  which 
bore  the  title,  "Fisk's  Encyclopedia."  The  book  opened 
automatically  to  a  certain  well-fingered  page.  At  the  top 
were  the  words:  "The  Two  Paths."  First  came  the  picture 
of  a  boy  of  twenty.  Underneath  were  three  other  engrav- 
ings, depicting  him  at  the  ages  of  thirty,  forty,  and  fifty. 
Each  picture  revealed  him  less  clear-eyed,  less  prepossessing, 
until  at  fifty  he  was  the  embodiment  of  dissipation,  poverty 
and  disgrace.  The  opposite  page  represented  a  second  boy, 
at  the  same  ages,  growing  clearer-eyed,  more  virtuous-look- 
ing and  distinguished  with  each  picture — till  at  fifty  he 
epitomised  self-respect,  wisdom  and  at  least  moderate  wealth. 
Each  picture  bore  a  graphic  description  of  the  causes  of 
the  change  in  the  two  characters.  The  first  boy  drank,  dissi- 
pated, loafed  and  neglected  his  duty.  The  second  boy 
spurned  temptations,  worked  faithfully  and  always  did  his 
duty.  Lee  never  had  forgotten  the  thrill  of  good  resolution 
that  ran  through  him  when  he  first  came  across  these  pic- 
tures. There  was  something  convincing  in  the  illustrations 
and  in  the  inexorableness  of  the  warning  words.  The  moral 
penetrated  deep;  the  pictures  became  a  symbol  to  him.  This 
was  when  he  was  sixteen.  He  took  the  book  to  college  with 
him,  and  at  times  secretly  reread  the  passages.  Even  now, 
they  represented  something  fundamental  in  his  life.  They 
simplified  things  so.     Lee  felt  the  same  thrill  of  good 


io  THE  GROPER 

resolution  go  through  him  to-night,  as  he  placed  the  old 
book  in  the  top  of  his  trunk. 

Just  then  he  heard  the  side  screen-door  open,  and  in  a 
moment  his  mother  appeared  in  the  doorway. 

Sara  Hillquit  was  a  woman  of  forty-five,  of  medium 
height,  her  spare  figure  clad  in  an  inconspicuous  black  dress. 
She  was  a  native  Vermonter,  and  possessed  the  characteristic 
New  England  faculty  of  defying  old  age.  She  looked  as 
if  she  were  under  forty,  and  one  had  the  feeling  that  at 
sixty  she  would  look  forty-five.  Her  cheeks  bore  the  rem- 
nants of  frosty  redness.  There  was  not  a  grey  hair  in  her 
head.  She  had  the  New  Englander's  sharpness  of  feature, 
and  the  New  Englander's  predilection  toward  preciseness, 
too;  she  minced  her  words  a  little;  and  of  course,  she 
clipped  her  r's  and  flattened  her  a's.  Of  late,  she  had  worn 
gold-rimmed  spectacles,  which  somehow  made  her  seem  a 
little  unfamiliar  to  her  son.  About  her  still  hung — and 
always  would — the  atmosphere  of  depressed  goodness,  the 
heritage  of  her  late  husband's  moodiness. 

Lee  kissed  his  mother.  He  loved  her  very  deeply — 
especially  her  occasional  revelations  of  tenderness.  At  times 
he  appreciated  her  self-sacrifices  for  him,  too — though  he 
had  acquired  the  prevalent  American  habit  of  belittling  and 
discounting  all  help  given  him. 

Mrs.  Hillquit  was  not  a  demonstrative  mother.  "All 
packed?"  she  began,  and  removed  her  small  black  hat. 

"Every  last  thing,"  her  son  replied. 

"D'  you  s'pose  you  can  find  room  for  one  more  small 
parcel?"  she  queried  mysteriously. 

Lee  smiled.    "What  is  it?" 

His  mother  disappeared,  and  he  heard  her  go  into  her 
room,  adjoining  his.  Presently,  she  reappeared,  carrying  a 
bundle,  wrapped  in  newspapers.  "There,"  she  said,  and  gave 
it  to  him. 

Lee  received  the  parcel  with  pretended  gravity,  and  fin- 


THE  GROPER  11 

gered  it  curiously.   "What  on  earth "  he  demanded,  then 

started  to  unwrap  the  newspaper  covering. 

His  mother  seized  his  hands.  "No,  not  now!"  she  en- 
joined.   "Wait  till  you're  in  Detroit." 

Lee  packed  the  bundle  carefully  in  one  corner  of  the 
trunk.  "It's  so  soft,"  he  commented.  He  took  his  mother 
in  his  arms  again,  and  kissed  her.  He  was  greatly  sur- 
prised to  feel  her  body  tremble.  Then  he  saw  two  or  three 
tears  slip  down  her  cheek. 

"It's  nothing,"  she  said,  and  smiled.  "I  ought  to  be 
ashamed  of  myself." 

Lee  patted  her  thin  shoulder. 

"I'm  so  anxious  to  have  my  boy  go  right,"  she  explained 
as  she  wiped  her  eyes. 

"Don't  worry  about  that,  mother."  Lee  almost  smiled. 
"I  know  the  difference  between  right  and  wrong,  and  I  know 
how  to  succeed.  I'm  determined  I'll  make  good,  and  I'm 
going  to  work  hard.    So  nothing  can  possibly  keep  me  back." 

"But  you  don't  even  know  what  you're  going  to  do," 
insisted  Mrs.  Hillquit.  "You  don't  understand  a  thing  about 
earning  money,  and  you  have  no  influence " 

"Don't  need  it,  mother.  I'm  going  to  make  good  on  my 
own  merits.    Just  you  wait." 

Mrs.  Hillquit  shook  her  head.  "I'll  visit  you,  maybe— 
but  I  couldn't  be  contented  in  Detroit.  It  wouldn't  seem 
natural — and  all  my  friends  are  here." 

"Perhaps  you'll  change  your  mind  later,"  said  Lee. 

His  mother's  thoughts  gravitated  back  to  the  practical. 
"What  time  do  you  want  to  be  called  in  the  morning?" 
She  went  to  bed  at  nine  every  evening,  and  was  up  at  five. 

Mother  and  son  discussed  various  details  a  moment. 
When  Mrs.  Hillquit  kissed  him  good-night,  she  was  again 
her  natural,  suppressed,  matter-of-fact,  New  England  self. 

"Be  sure  you  get  a  room  with  plenty  of  heat,"  were 
her  parting  words. 


THE  Chatham  "hack"  called  for  Lee  promptly  at  eight 
o'clock  the  next  morning;  he  kissed  his  mother  a 
final  good-bye;  Rex,  the  undersized,  shrivelled  hack- 
driver,  who  had  never  missed  a  train,  swung  his  trunk  up 
on  the  front  seat;  and  he  was  on  his  way  at  last.  The 
air  was  unexpectedly  cold,  and  he  buttoned  his  light  crava- 
nette  tightly  about  him. 

As  he  passed  the  Wakefield  house,  he  looked  in  vain  for 
some  sign  of  Vera.  She  had  promised  to  watch  for  the 
hack.  Just  as  he  had  given  up  hope,  she  ran  out  on  the 
porch  and  waved  her  handkerchief.  A  sweep  of  emotion 
overcame  him;  he  gulped;  his  eyes  felt  queer.  He  leaned 
out  of  the  rear  seat  and  waved  his  hat;  and  until  Rex 
turned  the  corner  two  blocks  down,  he  kept  his  eye  on  the 
fluttering  white  handkerchief  on  the  porch. 

Then  he  turned  to  Rex  and  simulated  an  interest  in  the 
two  mares  that  drew  the  hack.  But  within,  he  still  felt 
the  same  surging  emotion — a  sort  of  sad  nobleness,  a  deter- 
mination to  be  good  and  achieve  an  astounding  success. 

Rex  picked  up  another  passenger — Lee  was  relieved  that 
it  was  a  stranger — and  the  hack  quickly  covered  the  half- 
mile  to  the  depot.  The  train  was  reported  ten  minutes 
late,  but  presently  the  diminutive  locomotive  came  coughing 
and  steaming  through  the  frosty  air.  Lee  found  a  seat  in 
the  antiquated  chair-car;  the  train  jerked,  gathered  speed; 
the  drab,  wooden  Chatham  depot  slipped  from  view.  Lee 
saw  Rex  starting  phlegmatically  on  his  return  trip;  caught 
a  last  glimpse  of  the  distant  village,  looking  very  neat  and 
self-sufficient  in  the  morning  sunshine. 

12 


THE  GROPER  13 

"At  last!"  he  sighed. 

His  heroic,  all-conquering  mood  persisted.  It  Was  quite 
true,  as  his  mother  had  said,  that  he  was  entirely  without 
definite  plans — equally  without  influence  or  capital.  Had 
he  known  it,  his  ignorance  of  the  practical  aspects  of  life 
was  incredible.  He  entertained  a  rather  hazy  intention  of 
entering  some  business  where  energy  and  brains  would  yield 
quick  returns. 

"I'm  honest  and  ambitious,  and  I  have  a  good  education/' 
he  told  himself  once  more.  "I'll  find  something.  They  can't 
keep  me  down." 

On  second  thought,  he  did  have  one  definite  purpose.  A 
former  friend  of  his  father,  P.  H.  Taladay,  had  gone  to  the 
city  some  fifteen  years  before.  His  career  in  Chatham  had 
not  been  noteworthy;  yet  within  a  few  years,  he  owned  two 
vaudeville  theatres  in  Detroit  and  was  reported  to  be  rich. 
Now  he  was  reckoned  a  millionaire,  and  his  occasional 
visits  to  Chatham  were  the  village's  most  important  events. 

On  one  of  these  trips  Joseph  Hillquit  had  introduced  his 
son  to  the  great  man. 

"Comin'  to  Detroit,  eh?"  Taladay  had  said.  "Well,  the 
city's  the  place  for  opportunities.  Mebbe  I  might  turn 
something  your  way,  my  boy." 

Lee  had  been  greatly  impressed  by  the  magnate's  breezy, 
patronising  good  nature.  He  had  resolved  to  look  Mr. 
Taladay  up,  if  eventually  he  did  go  to  Detroit. 

He  had  two  other  friends  in  the  city.  Both  of  them 
had  been  classmates  of  his  at  the  University.  Bob  Hamilton 
had  been  the  editor  of  the  college  newspaper,  and  had 
"caught  on"— so  he  wrote  Lee— with  the  Detroit  newspaper 
for  which  he  had  been  the  University  correspondent.  He 
and  Lee  had  been  close  friends.  There  were  certain  things 
about  Bob  that  Lee  didn't  wholly  like— chiefly  a  certain 
suggestion  of  weakness;  but  he  had  been  very  glad  to  accept 
his  friend's  suggestion  about  sharing  rooms  in  Detroit. 


14  THE  GROPER 

Fred  Badger,  the  other  friend,  was  of  a  quite  different 
mould.  Secretly,  Lee  hoped  for  delightful  things  from  this 
friendship.  Fred  had  belonged  to  one  of  the  best  fraterni- 
ties in  college,  and  Lee  understood  that  he  was  "well  con- 
nected" in  Detroit.  In  fact,  Lee  had  seen  Fred's  name 
twice  that  very  summer  in  the  society  columns  of  the 
"Detroit  News."  Fred's  friendship  for  Lee  had  been  purely 
accidental:  both  of  them  played  the  guitar;  they  had  sat 
next  each  other  on  the  back  row  of  the  Mandolin  Club 
for  three  years.  In  their  junior  year,  they  had  suddenly 
become  excellent  friends.  Lee  did  not  feel  the  same  inti- 
macy and  congeniality  toward  Fred  that  he  cherished  for 
Bob  Hamilton;  but  Fred  suggested  strength  where  Bob 
suggested  weakness. 

The  Lake  Shore  train  arrived  in  Ypsilanti  nearly  an  hour 
late,  so  that  Lee  missed  connection  with  the  East-bound 
Michigan  Central  train  that  was  to  take  him  to  Detroit. 
It  was  nearly  three  when  he  caught  "The  Wolverine." 

The  train  was  scheduled  to  make  the  trip  from  Ypsilanti 
to  Detroit  in  forty  minutes.  It  seemed  to  Lee  that  he  had 
hardly  settled  himself  in  the  crowded  Pullman  smoking  com- 
partment when  the  outskirts  of  the  city  began  to  crowd  up 
about  the  flying  train. 

In  September,  1907,  the  city  of  Detroit  had  hardly  begun 
to  stir  from  its  long  habit  of  quiet  sleepiness,  was  just 
becoming  conscious  of  the  innate,  quickening  power  of 
miraculous  growth.  The  city  was  increasingly  prosperous — 
had  hardly  felt  the  hard  times  of  1907.  In  seven  years  the 
population  had  jumped  from  280,000  to  more  than  400,000. 
The  older,  more  conservative  element,  in  fact,  opposed  this 
sudden  growth.  "Detroit  has  always  been  such  a  nice  place 
to  live  in,"  they  complained.  "We'd  rather  it  stayed  small, 
instead  of  getting  big  and  smoky  and  dirty." 

Everywhere  one  encountered  this  subtle  antagonism  be- 
tween the  old  and  conservative  faction  and  the  new,  hus^ 


THE  GROPER  15 

tling  invasion  of  commercialism.  The  automobile  industry, 
still  in  its  swaddling  clothes,  clamored  loudly,  and  for  the 
most  part  vainly,  at  the  banks  for  credit.  "It's  just  a 
passing  fad,"  asseverated  Griswold  street.  "Remember  the 
bicycle."  The  stove,  the  pharmaceutical  product,  the  seed, 
were  still  regarded  as  the  city's  commercial  backbone.  The 
local  chauvinists  still  boasted:  "More  boats  pass  by  Detroit 
than  any  other  port  in  the  world;"  and  never  once  per- 
ceived the  irony  of  their  words. 

But  the  newer,  younger  element,  coming  in  from  outside 
the  city,  was  perceptibly  gaining  ground.  Even  in  those 
days,  Henry  Ford  was  beginning  to  be  a  name  to  conjure 
with,  to  stir  the  imagination.  "The  automobile  business  is 
here  to  stay,"  vaunted  these  optimists.  Any  industry  that 
gave  employment  to  ten  thousand  skilled  mechanics,  that 
had  an  output  worth  twenty  million  dollars,  was  more  than 
a  fanatic's  dream,  more  than  a  fad.  "If  Detroit  doesn't 
wake  up  and  boost — instead  of  knocking,"  they  warned, 
"we'll  find  some  other  city."  And  Detroit  capital  still 
wavered  between  caution  and  the  lure  of  adventure. 

Into  the  thick  of  this  sprawling  and  renascent  city,  "The 
Wolverine"  threaded  its  way  with  slackening  momentum. 
The  railroad  entrance  to  any  city  is  depressingly  sordid. 
Lee  found  no  thrill  in  the  shabby  rows  of  sooty  cottages, 
the  occasional  dingy  brick  factories,  the  lofty  skeleton-steel 
electric-light  towers. 

"Detroit!"  vociferated  the  brakeman.  "This  car  goes 
through  to  St.  Thomas,  Buffalo  and  New  York." 

The  Michigan  Central  Railroad  was  still  using  its  Third 
street  depot.  Lee  walked  into  the  old,  ivy-covered  building 
with  a  sense  of  mingled  elation  and  awe.  He  delivered  his 
baggage  check  to  an  expressman,  resisted  the  ingratiating 
attempts  of  the  porter  to  take  his  suitcase,  and  stepped  out 
on  the  sidewalk. 

So  this  was  Detroit!     Lee  had  been  in  the  city  only 


16  THE  GROPER 

twice  in  his  life,  on  flying  trips  with  the  University  musical 
clubs.  He  looked  about  him  with  lively  curiosity.  Cer- 
tainly the  immediate  vicinity  of  the  station  was  far  from 
prepossessing.  Three  saloons  and  two  quick-lunch  rooms 
met  his  inquiring  scrutiny.  But  Lee  instinctively  banished 
all  misgivings.  His  ideals  of  the  city  surged  into  his  mind. 
Here  lay  opportunity,  success— and  somewhere,  he  was  sure, 
even  beauty. 

His  interested  eye  paused  upon  a  knot  of  men  gathered 
compactly  about  a  little  niche  in  the  depot  wall.  No  street- 
car was  in  sight,  and  he  sauntered  toward  the  group.  The 
men  seemed  to  be  looking  over  each  other's  shoulders  at 
something  on  the  ground.  Lee  was  above  the  average 
height,  and  by  dint  of  standing  on  his  tip-toes  and  craning 
his  neck,  was  presently  able  to  see  an  unusual  spectacle. 

The  niche  in  the  depot  wall  left  a  little  plot  of  grass, 
protected  by  an  iron  fence.  Within  the  enclosure  two  spar- 
rows were  fighting.  The  struggle  must  have  been  prolonged; 
its  conclusion  was  obviously  near  at  hand.  Both  birds  had 
been  blinded.  One  of  them  had  seized  the  other  by  the 
neck,  and  was  weakly  shaking  it.  The  second  sparrow 
broke  loose  and  feebly  attacked  its  assailant.  Both  made 
futile  attempts  to  fly. 

Lee  felt  a  sudden  hotness  at  the  cruelty  of  it.  He  looked 
at  the  faces  about  him.  Nearly  all  of  them  reflected  high 
gratification.  Slack  mouths  expanded  into  foolish  grins. 
Dull  eyes  glistened.  The  observers  gloated  over  the  rare 
entertainment.  One  or  two  of  the  faces  remained  soddenly 
inexpressive.  Lee  looked  at  the  clothes  of  these  men.  Most 
of  them  were  prosperously  dressed. 

The  youthful  idealist  from  the  country  turned  away. 
Cruelty  toward  animals  always  sickened  him.  He  had  a 
notion  that  he  ought  to  do  something  to  terminate  this 
brutal  display — charge  in  among  these  men,  perhaps,  dis- 
perse them  with  a  stinging  rebuke,  and  mercifully  kill  th* 


THE  GROPER 


17 


tormented  birds.  Then  the  futility  of  doing  anything  at 
all  came  over  him. 

A  Woodward  avenue  street-car  backed  around  the  corner, 
and  Lee  prepared  to  board  it.  A  number  of  people  had 
been  waiting  for  the  car,  and  each  of  them  now  seemed 
imbued  with  a  desire  to  crowd  his  way  into  the  car  in 
advance  of  his  neighbors.  Those  who  first  achieved  the 
interior  of  the  car  apparently  felt  that  theirs  was  a  com- 
mendable accomplishment.  Every  one  seemed  irritated  at 
everybody  else.     Everybody  looked  tired. 

At  the  corner  of  Jefferson  avenue  and  Griswold  street, 
Lee  had  his  first  thrill.  The  Union  Trust  and  Hammond 
buildings  came  into  view  on  the  east  side  of  Griswold 
street — then,  on  the  west  side,  the  snow-white  outlines  of 
the  new  Ford  building,  nineteen  stories  high,  almost  com- 
pleted, the  first  of  a  future  series  of  terra-cotta  skyscrapers. 

Lee's  spirits  rebounded.  Here  at  last  was  the  real  city, 
real  opportunity — yes,  even  real  beauty.  That  ugliness 
back  there — that  brutality,  that  discourtesy — they  were  in- 
cidental, unusual. 

At  Woodward  avenue,  the  car  turned  north.  Lee  noted 
the  buildings,  the  crowds  of  people  on  the  street,  the  width 
of  the  avenue  itself.  He  was  duly  impressed  by  the  magni- 
tude of  the  new  Hotel  Pontchartrain,  then  in  course  of 
construction.  At  Bagg  street,  he  got  off  the  car,  walked 
two  blocks  west,  and  by  following  Bob  Hamilton's  explicit 
directions,  readily  found  the  house  on  Cass  avenue  where 
Bob  was  already  occupying  rooms. 

A  middle-aged  woman,  with  grey  hair  and  curling-iron 
bangs,  answered  his  ring. 

"You're  Mr.  Hilton,"  she  assured  Lee,  before  he  could 
introduce  himself.  "The  young  man  who's  going  to  room 
with  Mr.  Hamilton." 

"Hillquit,"  corrected  Lee. 

"Come  right  in,"  she  invited. 


18  THE  GROPER 

Lee  followed  Mrs.  Holmes'  calico  kimono  up  a  flight  of 
dark  stairs. 

"Here  they  are,"  she  announced,  and  threw  open  a  door. 

Lee  found  two  rooms,  one  a  small  living  room,  the  other 
an  alcove  bedroom,  hidden  by  a  velvet  curtain.  They  were 
side  rooms,  not  luxuriously  furnished;  but  the  living  room, 
at  least,  was  well  lighted.  Lee  noted  with  a  glow  of  recog- 
nition that  Bob  Hamilton  had  already  decorated  the  walls 
with  various  University  insignia. 

Mrs.  Holmes  warned  him  against  using  tacks  in  the  walls, 
assured  him  that  she  wanted  only  respectable  men  in  her 
rooming  house  and  that  no  scandal  had  ever  come  near 
the  institution;  then  departed. 

It  was  already  after  four  o'clock.  Lee  sat  down  in  one 
of  the  rocking  chairs  and  looked  about  the  rooms  more 
particularly.  With  very  little  trouble,  he  decided,  they 
could  be  made  very  like  college  quarters.  He  was  con- 
scious of  steam  heat  in  the  room — the  day  had  remained 
cold — and  he  reflected  that  his  mother  would  approve  of 
this  feature. 

All  at  once  he  bethought  himself  of  the  mysterious  pack- 
age his  mother  had  given  him  the  night  before.  Slowly  he 
unwrapped  the  newspaper  covering.  A  fruit  cake,  with 
heavy  chocolate  frosting — a  particular  weakness  of  Lee's — 
came  into  view. 

As  he  stood  looking  at  the  cake,  he  suddenly  felt  the 
qualms  of  a  great  homesickness,  a  devastating  loneliness.  A 
picture  of  his  mother,  weeping  a  few  silent  tears,  came 
poignantly  to  him. 

"What  rubbish!"  he  said  out  loud,  and  resolutely  began 
unpacking. 

At  five,  Bob  Hamilton  appeared. 

"Why,  hello,  Lee!"  he  grinned. 

Lee  returned  his  roommate's  greeting  with  unrestrained 
fervor.    Bob  was  a  rather  short,  rotund  youth,  with  a  round 


THE  GROPER  19 

colorless  face  and  slightly  protruding  blue  eyes  behind 
journalistic,  steel-rimmed  spectacles.  His  small  mouth  was 
indubitably  weak.  His  lower  lip  had  a  tendency  to  quiver. 
He  was  thoroughly  sincere,  both  in  manner  and  in  speech; 
but  he  lacked  the  solid  alloy  of  self-respect;  he  seemed  to 
find  spiritual  gratification  in  humbleness,  in  abasing  himself. 

"You're  thinner,"  pronounced  Lee.    "You  look  fagged." 

Bob  threw  his  overcoat  on  the  bed  and  sat  down.  "Been 
trotting  my  legs  off  all  summer,"  he  explained.  "I'm  doing 
suburban  on  the  paper,  you  know.  What  have  you  been 
up  to?" 

Lee  went  into  details — without  mentioning  Vera,  how- 
ever. His  love  for  her  seemed  too  sacred,  too  fine,  to 
retail  to  any  one  just  yet.  And  Bob,  he  knew,  had  the 
feminine  inability  to  keep  a  confidence. 

"And  now  you're  here,"  said  Bob,  "what  plans  have 
you,  anyway?" 

Lee  chose  to  be  evasive.  "I  have  two  or  three  things  up 
my  sleeve — several  people  I  want  to  talk  with.  I'm  going 
to  look  the  field  over  pretty  carefully  before  I  decide. 
There's  a  lot  more  chance  for  a  new  man  in  some  lines 
than  in  others." 

"I  s'pose  so,"  agreed  Bob.  "I  spoke  to  MacLennan,  the 
city  editor,  about  you  yesterday,  and  he  said  there  was 
nothing  doing  at  present." 

"Thanks,  anyway.  Probably  just  as  well.  I  don't  think 
I'd  make  much  of  a  reporter,  anyway.  I'm  going  to  take 
my  time,  and  pick  out  a  job  where  hard  work'll  bring  a 
real  success." 

"I  guess  you'll  find  what  you  want  sooner  or  later,"  Bob 
concurred,  as  he  looked  at  his  watch.  "Six  o'clockl  Come 
on — I'll  show  you  our  boarding  house." 


IV 

IN  spite  of  his  pose  of  easy  assurance  before  his  room- 
mate, Lee  really  felt  a  great  deal  of  restlessness  and 
some  uncertainty  about  his  choice  of  work.  His  mother 
had  volunteered  to  lend  him  ten  dollars  a  week  until  he 
secured  suitable  employment;  but  she  could  ill  afford  to 
send  him  money,  and  he  felt  considerable  distaste  toward 
accepting  her  remittances.  Besides,  he  was  eager,  ambitious, 
determined  to  win  splendid  success  in  an  unprecedentedly 
short  time.  He  wondered  if  he  would  be  making  enough 
money  in  six  months  to  marry  Vera. 

Tuesday  morning  he  finished  unpacking  his  trunk,  then 
walked  downtown.  He  first  planned  to  have  a  long  intimate 
talk  with  his  father's  friend,  P.  H.  Taladay.  Possibly,  if 
the  magnate  offered  any  definitely  attractive  prospect,  Lee 
might  enter  the  theatrical  business. 

He  found  the  desired  address  in  the  directory — the  Grand 
Theatre  building,  in  the  vicinity  of  Grand  Circus  Park. 
Eventually  he  made  his  way  to  the  theatre,  took  an  elevator 
to  the  second  floor  and  entered  Mr.  Taladay 's  office. 

A  sallow,  dyspeptic  young  Jew  condescended  to  look  up 
from  the  roll-top  desk  behind  which  he  was  working. 

"Is  Mr.  Taladay  in?" 

The  young  man  on  the  other  side  of  the  desk  looked 
thoroughly  disgusted.    He  resumed  his  work. 

Lee  was  completely  perplexed — started  to  be  indignant. 

"Never  in,  mornings — maybe  after  lunch,"  the  young  Jew 
snapped  without  looking  up. 

"I'll  come  in  again  this  afternoon,"  Lee  proclaimed. 

No  response. 

20 


THE  GROPER  21 

Lee  left  the  office,  feeling  angry  and  somehow  humiliated. 
What  had  he  done  to  antagonise  the  man  at  the  desk? 

His  boarding  house  confined  its  activities  to  breakfast 
and  dinner;  and  he  bought  an  egg  sandwich  and  a  glass 
of  milk  at  a  downtown  serve-self.  For  some  time  he  saun- 
tered about  the  streets,  looking  in  the  shop  windows,  watch- 
ing the  intent,  tired-looking  faces  of  the  people.  How 
dreary,  how  disillusioned  most  of  them  seemed!  It  was 
as  if  they  were  all  warning  him:  "Don't  you  dare  impose 
on  me!"  Lee  walked  for  an  hour  without  seeing  any  one 
really  smile.  He  wished  from  the  bottom  of  his  heart  that 
he  could  see  one  familiar  face. 

He  caught  himself  up  sharply.  The  unfriendliness,  the 
indifference,  the  strangeness  of  it  were  getting  beneath  his 
skin.  He  shook  off  his  depression.  "It's  just  because  I'm 
lonesome,"  he  explained  to  himself. 

At  half-past  two,  he  re-entered  Mr.  Taladay's  outer  office. 
At  his  inquiry,  the  young  man  behind  the  desk  looked  more 
bored  than  ever  and  merely  shook  his  head. 

"What  time  do  you  expect  him?" 

The  young  misanthrope  shrugged  his  shoulders — lifted  his 
upper  lip  superciliously.    Suddenly  he  looked  up. 

"What  d'  y'  want  t'  see  him  about?"  he  demanded  with 
obvious  suspicion. 

Lee  was  confused.    "Why — personal  business." 

The  young  Jew  looked  very  skeptical,  started  to  say  some- 
thing, changed  his  mind,  looked  down  at  his  work  again. 

Lee  glanced  around  the  room  uncertainly,  saw  a  vacant 
chair  near  the  door  and  decided  to  sit  down. 

The  minutes  dragged  on.  Every  time  any  one  came  in 
the  office,  Lee's  heart  jumped  expectantly.  But  Mr.  Taladay 
did  not  appear.  Lee  felt  ill  at  ease.  At  intervals,  the 
weary  young  Jew  would  throw  him  a  malevolent  look.  Two 
jaunty  stenographers  appeared  from  the  inner  offices  from 
time  to  time,  and  stared  at  him  curiously. 


22  THE  GROPER 

At  four  o'clock,  Lee  again  approached  the  desk.  He  was 
still  determined  to  be  polite. 

"I  guess  Mr.  Taladay  isn't  going  to  show  up,"  he  began. 

The  dyspeptic  face  did  not  change  its  expression.  "Been 
gone  fifteen  minutes." 

"Been  gone!"  Lee  stared.  He  leaned  over  the  top  of 
the  desk.  Anger  bowled  aside  his  self-restraint.  "Why 
didn't  you  let  him  know  I  was  here?"  he  shouted. 

The  young  Jew  eyed  Lee  without  emotion.  He  laid  his 
pen  down.  "Look  here  I"  he  suddenly  shot  out.  "I'm  paid 
to  keep  insurance  agents  and  other  pests  like  you  out  of 
Mr.  Taladay's  office.  You  can  wait  here  every  afternoon 
for  a  year,  and  you'll  never  lay  eyes  on  him." 

"Pest!"  It  was  hard  to  keep  from  sputtering.  "I  want 
you  to  know  I'm  a  friend  of  Mr.  Taladay,  and  I  intend 
to  see  him  and  tell  him  all  about  your  damned  impudence. 
It's  a  funny  thing  if "    He  had  to  stop  abruptly  to  gulp. 

The  bright  shrewd  little  eyes  opposite  betrayed  a  flicker 
of  interest.  "Oh,  a  friend!"  he  observed  with  sarcastic 
respect.  He  appraised  Lee  more  carefully.  After  all,  the 
intruder  might  not  be  an  insurance  agent.  "Well,  if  you 
would  have  been  a  friend  of  Mr.  Taladay's,  you  wouldn't 
have  been  so  tight  about  tellin'  me  your. business  with  him.' 
Mr.  Taladay's  friends  ain't  afraid  t'  give  me  their  cards."i 

Lee  was  perplexed  by  this  counter  charge,  but  he  was; 
also  very  much  aroused.  "I'll  be  back  here  to-morrow, 
afternoon,  and  I'll  see  Mr.  Taladay  in  spite  of  you." 

The  young  Jew  unfanged  once  more  in  high  disdain,  and] 
resumed  his  work  as  if  to  end  the  colloquy.  i 

Lee  walked  home.  He  wished  he  could  be  righteously 
indignant  without  forfeiting  his  self-possession.  It  was  so 
ridiculous  to  have  to  sputter  incoherently  and  gulp.  Well, 
he  would  see  Mr.  Taladay  to-morrow — he  was  determined 
on  that  point — and  the  big  man  would  straighten  things 
out. 


THE  GROPER  23 

He  was  disappointed  not  to  find  a  letter  from  Vera  wait- 
ing for  him  at  the  rooms.  She  had  promised  to  write  him 
Monday.  Not  even  a  letter  from  his  mother.  He  set  to 
work  arranging  his  things  about  the  rooms.  That  night,  he 
wrote  a  long,  affectionate  letter  to  Vera,  purposely  opti- 
mistic. By  the  time  he  had  mailed  it  and  gone  to  bed, 
he  was  thoroughly  happy  once  more. 

The  next  morning  was  grey  and  misty,  and  he  left  the 
house  late.  The  indefiniteness  of  his  plans  bewildered  him. 
Perhaps  it  would  be  just  as  well  to  accept  some  employment 
with  Mr.  Taladay  for  the  present,  till  he  had  a  chance  to 
get  his  bearings. 

The  mist  developed  into  a  rain  as  he  walked  down 
Woodward  avenue.  At  the  Majestic  building  he  gave  a 
sudden  shout  of  recognition. 

"Oh,  Fred!"  he  called. 

The  energetic  young  man  in  the  grey  rain-coat  who  had 
been  hurrying  in  the  opposite  direction,  pulled  up  short. 
A  grin  of  recognition  overspread  his  sharply-cut  features. 
He  grasped  Lee's  hand  warmly. 

"Hello,  old  topi"  he  greeted. 

Fred  Badger  was  the  embodiment  of  self-confident,  pros- 
perous efficiency.  It  was  not  only  the  "snap"  to  his  suit, 
the  flamboyancy  of  his  striped  four-in-hand  tie.  He  looked 
you  right  in  the  eye.  He  had  a  certain  kind  of  force,  a 
certain  definiteness.  Somehow  he  persuaded  you  not  only 
that  he  knew  precisely  what  he  wanted,  but  also  that  he 
would  usually  get  it.  His  features  were  regular— except 
that  his  nose  was  a  little  flat.  His  dark  brown  eyes  were 
very  alert  under  full,  accented  brows.  Here  was  practical 
ability,  one  felt— power  to  achieve,  purposefulness— and 
possibly,  selfishness  and  total  lack  of  sensitiveness.  Here 
was  no  dreamer,  but  a  doer,  the  type  of  youth  of  whom 
older  men  say:  "There's  a  boy  who's  going  to  succeed  in 
life." 


24!  THE  GROPER 

Lee  felt  his  loneliness  slip  from  him.  "Lordy,  it's  good 
to  see  you!"  he  jubilated.  "I've  been  here  two  days  al- 
ready, and  you're  the  first  person  I've  met  on  the  streets 
that  I  knew.    What  are  you  doing?" 

Fred  explained  that  he  had  recently  become  a  bond  sales- 
man, "with  the  best  bond  house  in  Detroit,"  he  added.  "I 
get  $75.00  a  month  salary,  and  a  commission,  to  start  with. 
Believe  me,  Lee,  I'm  going  to  make  two  thousand  dollars 
my  first  year  at  it.    How  about  yourself?" 

Lee  set  forth  his  plans  as  optimistically  as  he  could;  but 
all  the  time,  he  was  conscious  of  Fred  Badger's  keen, 
appraising  eye.  "I  might  try  the  bond  business,"  he 
intimated. 

Fred  waved  a  greeting  at  two  other  young  men.  "I  doubt 
if  you'd  find  any  good  opening,"  he  answered.  "I  only 
landed  this  job  because  I  had  a  drag — and  you  don't  know 
anybody.  A  bond  broker's  got  to  have  lots  of  friends,  to 
start  with.    Why  don't  you  try  real  estate  or  insurance?" 

"I  don't  think  I'd  like  insurance,"  professed  Lee.  He 
was  thinking  of  what  the  young  Jew  in  Mr.  Taladay's  office 
had  said:  "Insurance  agents  and  other  pests."  He  thought 
the  business  must  be  disagreeable. 

"Well,  you'll  find  something,"  said  Fred,  looking  critically 
at  Lee.    "I  must  be  getting  on." 

"But,  Fred,  I  want  to  talk  to  you,"  objected  Lee.  "Can't 
we  have  lunch  together?" 

"Hello,  Chuck,"  called  Fred  to  another  friendly  youth. 
"Lunch?  Sorry,  but  I'm  dated  up.  Call  me  up  sometime 
— or  better  yet,  give  me  your  'phone  number."  He  jotted 
down  the  number.  "See  you  soon."  He  smiled  gaily,  and 
hurried  away. 

Lee  was  disappointed.  He  had  wanted  to  get  "pointers" 
on  possible  business  openings.  Somehow,  Fred  seemed  so 
airy,  so  casual,  about  seeing  him  again.    But  he  swallowed 


THE  GROPER  25 

his  disappointment.  Fred  and  he  would  surely  be  just  as 
good  friends  as  ever. 

Lee  consumed  another  egg  sandwich,  and  promptly  at 
two  o'clock  walked  into  Mr.  Taladay's  office  for  the  thirrd 
time.  He  produced  one  of  his  personal  cards,  wrote  on  it, 
"From  Chatham,"  and  handed  it  to  the  young  Jew.  The 
latter  scrutinised  the  card,  then  with  great  dignity  dis- 
iappeared  into  the  inner  offices. 

After  a  long  absence,  he  reappeared,  and  with  a  distinctly 
injured  manner,  informed  Lee  he  might  see  Mr.  Taladay. 

Mr.  P.  II.  Taladay  had  changed  but  little  in  seven  years — 
in  fact,  he  still  looked  the  guileless  country  man.  He  was 
a  large,  shapeless  individual,  with  a  chubby  florid  face  and 
a  pompadour  of  white  hair.  His  light  blue  eyes  were  de- 
ceivingly ingenuous;  his  mouth  inclined  to  pout — in  fact, 
his  whole  expression  inevitably  reminded  one  of  a  baby's. 
He  talked  incessantly  about  himself  and  his  success,  which, 
indeed,  had  been  remarkable.  Twenty  years  before,  when 
he  first  came  to  Detroit,  he  had  been  practically  penniless. 
Now  he  was  worth  four  or  five  million  dollars.  He  con- 
trolled a  string  of  vaudeville  theatres.  He  even  produced 
plays.  Besides  his  theatrical  holdings,  he  owned  large  blocks 
of  stock  in  the  city's  most  substantial  industries.  Every- 
thing he  touched  "turned  to  gold,"  it  was  whispered.  He 
was  a  director  in  two  banks;  a  vice  president  in  one.  Under 
cover  of  his  unsophisticated  expression,  he  had  a  mind  that 
was  like  a  steel  trap,  a  definite,  hard,  purposefulness  that 
never  wavered,  a  selfishness  that  never  softened. 

At  Lee's  entrance  into  the  private  office,  Taladay  promptly 
pivoted  about  in  his  desk  chair. 

"Well,  young  man?"  His  little  blue  eyes  took  in  his 
caller  instantly. 

"I  don't  suppose  you  remember  me,"  Lee  began  depre- 
catingly.    "My  father  introduced " 


26  THE  GROPER 

"Oh  yes!"  broke  in  Taladay.  "You're  Joe  Hillquit's  son. 
Sit  down.    How's  your  father?" 

"Why,  he's  been  dead  five  years,"  faltered  Lee. 

"That's  so — I  remember  hearing  about  it.  And  what  can 
I  do  for  you?" 

His  embarrassed  visitor  reminded  him  of  his  offer  of  help. 
All  of  the  time  Taladay  was  taking  Lee's  measure  and 
finding  him  woefully  wanting.  He  had  an  instinctive  aver- 
sion to  college  men.  He  wouldn't  hire  one  on  a  bet,  he  told 
himself.    They  had  too  many  fool  scruples. 

"Well,  I  don't  know  of  any  opening  right  now,"  he 
answered  promptly.  Then  his  excellent  opinion  of  himself 
intervened.  "But  you  ought  to  find  something.  Why, 
when  I  came  here  in  1887,  they  wasn't  one-quarter  the 
chance  for  a  boy  they  is  now.  I  didn't  have  a  cent  to  start 
with,  an'  look  at  me  to-day.  Shows  what  hard  work  and 
brains  will  do  for  a  man." 

"I  thought  perhaps  you  might  let  me  work  in  the  box 
office,"  Lee  timidly  interposed. 

It  occurred  to  Taladay  that  he  was  wasting  time.  He 
stood  up.  "No  vacancy  right  now.  Besides,  it's  long  hours 
an'  only  ten  dollars  a  week.  You'll  find  something  much 
better,  I'm  sure."    He  moved  a  step  toward  the  door. 

"But  if  you  hear  of  something — couldn't  you  let  me 
know?    I'll  leave  my  card." 

"Sure  I  will,"  acquiesced  the  great  man.  He  had  no 
objection  to  granting  favors  that  required  neither  time  nor 
money. 

After  Lee  had  gone,  Taladay  shook  his  head.  THe  young 
cub  had  more  than  usual  to  learn,  he  thought,  as  he  tore 
Lee's  card  in  two  and  threw  it  into  his  wastebasket. 

On  the  street  outside,  Lee  was  doing  his  best  to  keep  his 
face  impassive.  He  felt  a  dread  of  any  one  suspecting  his 
disappointment.    He  had  hoped  to  secure  news  of  several 


THE  GROPER  23 

possible  opportunities,  had  counted  on  being  offered  some 
sort  of  a  position  in  Mr.  Taladay's  employment. 

All  at  once,  he  stopped  short.  In  spite  of  himself,  he 
smiled.  He  had  completely  forgotten  to  tell  Mr.  Taladay 
about  the  young  Jew's  insolence. 

What  to  do  next?  Lee  walked  on  irresolutely.  He  came 
to  a  little  triangular  park  and  cut  through  it.  Every  bench 
had  at  least  one  occupant,  ragged,  unkempt,  huddled  shiver- 
ingly  into  as  small  space  as  possible. 

One  bench-warmer  descried  Lee's  philanthropic  mien  from 
afar,  and  drew  up  to  him  from  the  rear. 

"Say,  brother,  could  you  help  a  fellow  out  wit*  the  price 
of  a  meal?    I  ain't  had " 

Lee  stopped  and  looked  around.  When  his  interlocutor 
had  caught  one  glimpse  of  his  open,  trustful  expression,  he 
forthwith  decided  to  play  for  higher  stakes. 

"I  got  a  job  waitin'  f'r  me  out  at  the  Cadillac,  but  all 
my  tools  're  in  hock  f'r  a  dollar.  I  ain't  no  bum."  This 
last  vehemently. 

"Of  course  not!"  Lee  considered  the  problem  conscien- 
tiously.   He  couldn't  possibly  afford  a  dollar. 

The  "bo"  divined  Lee's  mental  process  instantly.  "I 
got  a  half  dollar  already,"  he  explained.  "All  I  need's 
another  half— to  git  my  tools  out-a  hock.  I'm  a  skilled 
mechanic,  I  am." 

Lee  took  note  of  the  man's  large-pupilled,  bloodshot  eyes 
—the  shred  of  "fine-cut"  clinging  to  his  lower  lip— and 
had  an  instant's  misgivings. 

"I  jus'  want  t'  borrow  a  half  dollar,"  set  forth  the  bench 
warmer.  "You  give  me  your  address,  and  I'll  bring  the 
money  to  you  the  first  pay  I  draw.  I  swear  I  will,  so  help 
me  God!" 

The  man  was  almost  in  tears.  Lee  produced  the  half 
dollar,  then  wrote  his  address  on  a  card.  The  man  shuffled 
off  with  voluble  protestations  of  maudlin  gratitude. 


28  THE  GROPER 

"Thank  heaven!"  reflected  Lee,  "I  don't  have  to  worry 
about  actual  poverty,  anyway." 

He  walked  home.  To  his  great  delight,  he  found  a  letter 
from  Vera.  To  Lee  that  letter  was  quite  the  most  re- 
markable document  in  the  world.  He  reread  it  a  half- 
dozen  times.  She  made  him  ashamed  for  feeling  even 
slightly  despondent.  All  his  hopes  and  ambitions  vaulted 
into  the  saddle  once  more.  Nothing  should  stop  him!  He 
would  overcome  every  obstacle!  These  first  discourage- 
ments— every  successful  man  had  them  at  the  outset. 

He  was  evasively  optimistic  with  Bob  Hamilton  again 
that  night — quite  to  the  latter's  envy. 

"There's  something  unusual  about  you,"  Bob  insisted. 
"You're  different.  You'll  do  something  extraordinary.  I'll 
bet  you'll  never  chase  your  legs  off  for  twelve  dollars  a 
week,  the  way  I'm  doing." 

Lee  felt  mysteriously  elated.  To-morrow  would  bring 
something  momentous,  he  was  very  sure. 


LEE  set  out  at  half-past  eight  Thursday  morning;  not 
that  he  had  arrived  at  any  definite  plan,  but  because 
he  imagined  that  Mrs.  Holmes  would  begin  to  think 
peculiar  things  about  him  if  he  continued  to  spend  most  of 
his  time  in  the  rooms.  On  the  way  downtown,  he  set 
himself  to  the  task  of  facing  the  dilemma  intelligently, 
logically — the  way  a  college  man  should.  He  believed  that 
pure  reason  could  solve  any  problem  in  life. 

The  day  was  again  inclement.  An  uneasy  southwest  wind 
blew  the  rain  in  his  face.  He  continued  to  tramp  the  streets 
aimlessly  for  two  hours.  Somehow  his  mental  processes 
didn't  seem  to  be  functioning  efficiently.  How  did  one  get 
a  job,  anyway?  It  was  the  first  time  in  his  life  he  had 
had  to  face  a  problem  in  practical  economics.  Should  he 
make  a  round  of  the  downtown  stores  or  offices — or  what? 
What  did  other  college  men  do?  Slowly  his  elation  was 
oozing  away. 

He  happened  to  go  past  the  old,  red-brick  library.  Per- 
haps there  might  be  some  book  on  the  subject.  The  idea 
was  a  pleasant  one.  He  entered  the  building  by  the  rear 
door,  and  walked  up  the  stairs.  At  the  periodical  room, 
he  wavered.  In  the  racks,  he  spied  the  current  number 
of  his  favorite  magazine.  The  temptation  was  too  great; 
Lee  took  the  magazine  and  settled  down  in  a  seat  by  the 
window.  After  all,  he  couldn't  be  expected  to  walk  the 
streets  and  cudgel  his  brain  all  day. 

That  afternoon  found  Lee  in  the  library  again,  and  the 
next  morning,  as  well.  Little  by  little  the  building  was 
beginning  to  represent  a  refuge  from  the  unpleasantness  of 

29 


30  THE  GROPER 

uncertainty  and  indecision.  To  be  sure,  he  did  find  a 
number  of  ponderous  volumes  dealing  with  the  '  'problem 
of  employment";  but  they  all  confined  themselves  to  the 
manual  workers,  the  proletariat. 

But  on  Friday  afternoon,  he  accidentally  stumbled  upon 
a  promising  clue.  He  had  finished  reading  his  magazine, 
and  was  looking  about  the  room  rather  idly,  vaguely  con- 
scious of  an  uncomfortable  feeling  of  failure.  His  fellow- 
readers  were  mostly  an  uninspiring  lot  of  seedy  derelicts. 
Some  of  them  frequented  the  library  solely  because  it  was 
well-heated. 

At  Lee's  right,  a  man  was  reading  the  daily  paper.  Lee 
looked  incuriously  at  the  pages.  The  man  seemed  to  be 
studying  the  "liner"  advertisements. 

All  at  once,  the  idea  came  to  Lee.  How  simple!  How 
stupid  not  to  have  thought  of  it  before!  In  these  columns, 
he  might  find  exactly  the  opportunity  he  had  been  craving. 
Excitedly  he  secured  an  evening  paper  from  the  desk  and 
returned  to  the  chair. 

"A-a-a-a,"  he  read — "wanted,  young  men  to  act  as  in- 
surance agents.    New  proposition.    Ideal  opportunity." 

That  sounded  promising,  Lee  reflected;  but  the  prejudice 
of  the  young  Jew  in  Taladay's  office  against  insurance  agents 
had  corroded  deeply  into  his  sensibilities.  He  didn't  want 
to  be  classed  as  a  "pest,"  no  matter  how  much  money  he 
made. 

Several  advertisements  for  mechanics  followed — then: 

"A — Young  man  wanted  at  once  to  enter  real  estate 
business.  No  previous  experience  necessary,  but  only  hus- 
tler need  apply.  Splendid  opening  for  an  ambitious,  in- 
dustrious man.  Apply  Sales  Manager,  Security  Realty 
Company,  Adamson  building." 

Lee  read  the  announcement  several  times  with  growing 
interest.  He  knew  nothing  about  the  real  estate  business, 
but  he  remembered  that  Fred  Badger  had  suggested  it  as  a 


THE  GROPER  31 

promising  possibility.  He  liked  the  wording  of  the  adver- 
tisement especially.  "Only  hustler  need  apply";  "Splendid 
opening  for  an  ambitious,  industrious  man":  these  phrases 
had  the  right  ring;  they  brought  an  instant,  enthusiastic  re- 
sponse from  deep  within  him. 

He  looked  at  his  watch.  It  was  nearly  four.  Probably 
the  place  would  be  gone  by  now.  If  only  he  had  looked 
at  the  newspaper  before.  Still,  it  was  worth  trying  for. 
Hastily  he  consulted  the  city  directory;  the  Adamson  build- 
ing proved  to  be  only  two  blocks  north.  He  started  out 
briskly.    It  was  hard  to  keep  from  running. 

He  spied  a  conspicuous  sign,  just  above  the  second-floor 
windows  of  a  four-story  brick  building,  bearing  in  great  gilt 
letters  the  words:  "SECURITY  REALTY  COMPANY." 
He  sprang  up  the  stairway  two  steps  at  a  time. 

The  Security  Realty  Company  occupied  the  whole  second 
floor  of  the  Adamson  building.  The  room  seemed  very 
pretentious  to  Lee.  On  the  right  hand  side,  as  he  faced  the 
rear,  were  various  enclosures  marked  "Cashier,"  "Book- 
keeper," etc.  At  the  front,  a  private  office  was  partitioned 
off.  The  opaque  glass  on  the  door  bore  the  name:  "Mr. 
Hauxhurst."  At  the  left,  fifteen  or  twenty  roll-top  desks 
were  marshalled  in  two  rows.  The  top  of  each  desk  bore 
a  small  bronze  sign  with  a  name  printed  on  it.  Very  few 
of  the  desks  were  occupied;  the  whole  room  seemed  deserted. 

Just  to  the  right,  as  he  entered  the  room,  Lee's  attention 
centred  on  a  desk  standing  in  a  wooden-railed  inclosure. 
This  desk  also  bore  a  sign:  "Mr.  O'Neill,  Sales  Manager"; 
and  thither  he  directed  his  rapid  steps. 

Mr.  O'Neill  was  a  thin-faced,  smooth-shaven  person  of 
thirty,  with  cautious,  filmy  eyes,  a  shrewd,  puckered  mouth, 
and  a  carefully  cultivated  air  of  conservatism.  He  was 
dictating  to  a  stenographer  at  the  moment.  Lee  was  enor- 
mously relieved  that  no  other  applicants  were  at  hand. 

Mr.  O'Neill  swung  around  and  surveyed  his  caller. 


32  THE  GROPER 

"I  noticed  your  advertisement  in  the  newspaper,"  broached 
Lee. 

"Oh  yes,"  recollected  the  sales  manager.  "Come  in."  He 
swung  open  the  gate. 

Lee  sat  down  hopefully.  "Is  the  place  still  open?" 

O'Neill  nodded.  "We  haven't  rilled  it  definitely,  as  yet." 
He  took  a  printed  slip  from  a  pigeon-hole.  "Any  experi- 
ence?" 

Lee  shook  his  head. 

"Never  mind,  I  didn't  have  either  when  I  started."  The 
sales  manager  proceeded  to  take  down  other  data. 

Lee  felt  that  he  must  impress  O'Neill  with  his  earnestness. 
"I  realise  that  I  know  nothing  of  the  business,"  he  began, 
"but  I'm  ambitious,  and  I'm  willing  to  work." 

O'Neill  pursed  his  lips.  His  staring  grey  eyes  looked 
very  solemn.  "I  believe  you  are,  Mr.  Hillquit.  Let  me  tell 
you,  there's  no  such  opportunity  in  the  city  as  you'll  get 
right  here." 

The  youthful  applicant  broke  in  excitedly.  "You're  go- 
ing to  give  me  the  position?" 

"Yes,"  said  O'Neill.  "I  think  I'll  give  you  a  chance  at 
it,  and  I  really  believe  you'll  make  good.  Let  me  show 
you  something." 

He  extracted  a  bank  book  from  a  drawer.  "Understand — 
I  don't  show  this  to  everybody.  I  began  with  this  firm  a 
year  ago  last  spring.  I  hadn't  had  any  more  experience 
than  you.  Yet  just  see  what  I  did."  He  held  the  bank 
book  open,  and  lowered  his  voice  to  a  reverent  whisper: 
"April  8th,  $50.00— that  was  the  day  I  closed  my  first  deal 
—April  20th,  $42.00;  April  30th,  $55.00.  A  hundred  and 
forty-seven  dollars  my  first  month.  In  May,  I  put  two 
hundred  dollars  in  the  bank." 

Lee  bent  over  the  book.  The  figures  were  there.  He 
raised  his  eyes  to  O'Neill's  thin,  nervous  face. 


THE  GROPER 


33 


"And  you  can  do  just  as  well,"  he  heard  the  sales  manager 
say. 

Two  hundred  dollars  a  month!  His  imagination  danced, 
reeled.  He  thought  of  Vera.  Here  was  his  opportunity  at 
last! 

"When  can  I  start?"  he  importuned. 

"That's  the  right  spirit— I  like  it,"  complimented  O'Neill 
unsmilingly.^  "You  can  start  this  afternoon — right  away." 
He  consulted  a  book.  "I  guess  I'll  assign  you  to  Mr. 
Eberenz."  He  stood  up  and  looked  toward  the  rows  of 
desks  at  the  left.    "Let's  see — yes,  he's  in." 

He  led  the  way  to  the  fifth  desk  on  the  right  hand  side. 
"Mr  Eberenz — this  is  Mr.  Hillquit,  who  has  just  joined 
our  staff.  Mr.  Eberenz,"  he  told  Lee,  "is  one  of  our  most 
successful  superintendents.    He  will  give  you  instructions." 

Mr.  Oscar  Eberenz  rose  from  his  chair,  and  grasped  Lee's 
hand  cordially.  He  was  about  fifty-five  years  old,  bald- 
headed,  grey-haired,  inclined  to  obesity.  His  eye-glasses 
gave  him  a  spurious  air  of  refinement.  As  he  smiled  his 
welcome,  Lee  observed  that  his  left  eye-tooth  was  missing. 
But  his  cheerfulness  was  indubitable.  He  had  been  a  candy 
salesman  for  twenty  years,  he  told  Lee;  had  started  in  busi- 
ness for  himself,  and  promptly  failed ;  had  been  in  the  real 
estate  business  but  six  months.  Only  five  weeks  ago,  the 
firm  had  made  him  a  superintendent.  All  these  desks  be- 
longed to  superintendents,  Mr.  Eberenz  said.  Each  superin- 
tendent had  five  or  six  salesmen  under  him.  Lee  was  sur- 
prised to  learn  the  number  of  salesmen.  There  were  eighty 
or  ninety,  altogether. 

Eberenz  went  on  to  expound  the  details  of  the  business. 
The  Security  Realty  Company  specialised  in  selling  sub- 
division lots.  A  salesman  received  five  per  cent,  commission 
on  the  price  of  all  lots  sold  by  him.  A  superintendent,  Lee 
learned  afterwards,  received  a  commission  of  two  per  cent, 
on  sales  made  by  his  men— in  addition  to  the  regular  five 


34  THE  GROPER 

per  cent,  commission  on  his  individual  sales.  The  Security 
Realty  Company  was  paid  a  ten  per  cent,  commission  by 
the  subdivision  owners — three  per  cent,  net,  after  paying  its 
salesmen  and  superintendents. 

Large  maps  of  the  half-dozen  subdivisions  which  the  com- 
pany was  handling  hung  on  the  side  wall.  As  soon  as  a 
salesman  "closed  a  deal"  for  a  lot,  he  reported  to  his 
superintendent.  The  superintendent,  in  turn,  reported  each 
new  sale  to  Mr.  O'Neill,  the  sales  manager,  and  also  saw 
to  it  that  the  lot  which  had  been  sold  was  promptly  painted 
red  on  the  wall-map  of  the  plat,  indicating  that  it  was  off 
the  market.  The  salesmen  were  required  to  report  at  the 
office  each  morning  to  confer  with  their  respective  super- 
intendents, and  especially,  to  check  off  on  their  pocket-maps 
the  lots  marked  sold  on  the  subdivision  wall-maps.  In  this 
way,  each  salesman  kept  an  accurate  record  of  just  which  lots 
had  been  sold  and  which  were  still  on  the  market. 

Eberenz  explained  that  each  salesman  had  "prospects"; 
that  is,  prospective  purchasers.  If  he  desired,  he  could 
have  his  prospects  entered  in  a  book  kept  for  that  purpose, 
and  no  other  salesman  would  then  have  a  right  to  sell  that 
particular  prospect  for  three  months  thereafter.  Few  sales- 
men took  the  trouble  to  do  this,  however. 

Lee  blinked  perplexedly.  "But  how  do  the  salesmen  get 
prospects?" 

Eberenz  smiled  slyly.  "That's  where  us  superintendents 
comes  in,"  he  asseverated.  "We  give  you  a  list  of  people 
to  call  on.  The  ones  that  are  interested  are  your  prospects. 
To-morrow,  I'll  give  you  a  bunch  of  cards  like  this."  He 
pointed  to  a  pile  of  white  cards  on  his  desk.  "See — they're 
printed.  Here's  the  name  an'  address,  an'  here's  places 
to  put  down  the  dates  you  call  on  'em,  an'  here's  'Re- 
marks.' " 

Eberenz  gave  his  new  salesman  a  few  more  details  of 
information,  then  said:  "Too  late  t'  show  you  much  more 


THE  GROPER  35 

to-day.  You  be  here  at  nine  t'-morrow  mornin\  Satur- 
day mornin's  we  have  our  experience  meetin's,"  he  laughed. 
"After  the  meetin',  I'll  take  you  out  to  the  subs,  an'  give 
you  a  line  on  the  prop'ty  you're  goin'  to  sell." 

Lee  promised  to  report  promptly  the  next  morning  and 
took  his  leave.  As  he  approached  the  door,  an  anxious- 
looking  man  with  a  drooping  moustache  entered  and  ap- 
proached O'Neill's  desk  uncertainly.  Too  late!  The  poor 
chap  would  doubtless  be  deeply  chagrined  when  he  learned 
that  the  opening  had  already  been  filled. 

Lee  walked  home  with  a  new  light  in  his  eyes.  Two 
hundred  dollars  a  month!  He  wondered  what  Vera  and 
his  mother  would  say  to  that.  And  only  two  hours  ago, 
he  had  felt  quite  beaten.  Really,  it  was  almost  provi- 
dential. That  night,  he  wrote  Vera  all  about  his  good 
fortune.  Bob  Hamilton  seemed  greatly  impressed  with  the 
possibilities  of  the  real  estate  business. 

The  next  morning,  Eberenz  introduced  him  to  a  few  of 
his  fellow  salesmen,  and  later  took  him  to  the  meeting. 
This  was  held  in  a  nearby  hall.  The  salesmen  sat  in  rows 
of  folding  chairs.  Lee  couldn't  help  feeling  slightly  dis- 
appointed in  their  demeanor.  Mostly  they  seemed  a  sullen, 
unresponsive  lot.  They  didn't  appreciate  their  splendid  op- 
portunity, apparently.  Well,  so  much  the  easier  for  him 
to  shine,  by  comparison. 

He  was  considerably  perplexed  to  note,  a  few  seats  to 
the  left,  the  anxious  looking  man  with  the  drooping  mous- 
tache, who  had  entered  the  office  yesterday  just  as  he  was 
leaving.  There  must  have  been  two  vacancies— or  per- 
haps, they  were  taking  the  other  man  on  trial. 

To  Lee,  the  salesmen's  meeting  proved  a  very  inspiring 
occasion;  in  fact,  the  Saturday  meetings  never  quite  lost 
their  fascination  for  him.  Mr.  Hauxhurst,  the  principal 
owner  and  managing  head  of  the  business,  presided,  and 
almost  always  harangued  the  gathering.    Mr.  Hauxhurst  at 


36  THE  GROPER 

once  drew  Lee's  unadulterated  admiration.  He  was  middle- 
aged;  his  eyes  snapped  with  energy;  when  he  addressed  the 
meeting,  his  broad,  coarse-skinned  face  would  grow  red, 
and  veins  would  bulge  out  on  both  temples.  But  such 
eloquence!  It  always  made  Lee  feel  deeply  ashamed  of  his 
own  pusillanimity.  Mr.  Hauxhurst's  speech  ordinarily  be- 
gan with  a  description  of  how  he  had  closed  his  first  deal 
with  a  stubborn  customer  on  a  freezing  day  in  mid-winter. 
"I  simply  wouldn't  let  him  get  away,  out  of  the  cold,  until 
I'd  sold  him."  From  that  beginning,  he  would  proceed  to 
the  statement  that  success  in  the  real  estate  business  was 
simply  a  matter  of  pluck  and  perseverance.  He  always 
concluded  by  telling  his  auditors  how  little  of  either  quality 
they  possessed.  "For  God's  sake,  boys,  get  out  and  hustle!" 
was  his  favorite  benediction.  Sometimes  a  superintendent 
would  give  a  colorless  talk;  but  Hauxhurst's  orations  were 
the  real  feature.  Their  effect  was  startling.  The  salesmen 
who  had  slunk  crestfallen  into  the  room  would  walk  out 
determined  to  sell  a  whole  subdivision  next  week.  Lee,  in 
particular,  always  felt  quite  invincible  after  listening  to 
Hauxhurst. 

That  first  Saturday  morning  Hauxhurst's  theme  made  an 
especial  appeal  to  Lee. 

"Real  estate  is  more'n  just  a  business,"  he  insisted  with 
convincing  earnestness.  "A  good  real  estate  man  makes  a  lot 
of  money;  but  he  does  more'n  that.  When  you  sell  a  man  a 
lot,  I  tell  you  you're  doin'  him  the  grandest  service  in  the 
world.  First,  you're  makin'  him  an  investor — makin'  him 
save  his  money.  And  he's  sure  to  make  a  good  profit  on 
his  investment.  Second,  you're  givin'  him  a  chance  t'  stop 
payin'  rent  and  own  a  home  of  his  own — an'  that's  the 
best  thing  on  earth  for  any  man." 

What  a  splendid  thought!  That  was  it — the  Crusader 
Spirit.  Lee  wanted  to  make  money,  to  be  sure;  but  how 
fine  it  was  to  be  serving  one's  fellow  men  at  the  sai&3  time! 


THE  GROPER  37 

He  imagined  himself  in  the  middle  of  a  throng  of  grateful 
real  estate  buyers,  a  glad  smile  on  his  face,  an  invisible 
aureole  about  his  head. 

The  meeting  was  over  at  half-past  ten,  and  the  eighty 
salesmen  quickly  melted  away.  Eberenz  surprised  Lee  by  in- 
troducing him  to  the  new  man  with  the  drooping  moustache. 
"Mr.  Hillquit,  meet  Mr.  Poole."  It  developed  that  Poole 
had  also  been  assigned  to  Eberenz. 

"Now  I'll  take  you  two  boys  out  t'  see  the  prop'ty," 
announced  the  superintendent,  and  the  three  boarded  a  west- 
bound Fort  street  car.  On  the  way  out,  Lee  had  some 
opportunity  of  getting  acquainted  with  his  new  fellow- 
salesman.  Poole  was  nearly  forty  years  old.  He  was  mar- 
ried, he  explained,  and  had  two  children.  He  had  worked 
as  a  shipping  clerk  in  a  stove  factory  for  the  last  ten  years, 
and  had  recently  lost  his  job  because  of  the  combining  of 
two  departments.  Lee  watched  him  closely,  for  in  a  way, 
Poole  represented  competition,  rivalry.  The  two  of  them 
were  starting  in  at  the  same  time  under  the  same  super- 
intendent. The  heads  of  the  firm  would  naturally  compare 
their  progress.  Poole  had  a  slightly  undershot  jaw  and  a 
thick  neck.  His  eyes  were  expressionless.  He  suggested  a 
blind,  plaintive  doggedness.  Lee  shut  his  teeth  hard,  and 
made  a  firm  resolve  to  surpass  Poole,  at  all  costs. 

He  rather  liked  Eberenz.  The  superintendent's  assump- 
tion of  gentility  was  ridiculous,  of  course.  The  grand  air 
with  which  he  removed  and  adjusted  his  nose-glasses  was 
highly  amusing.  His  smutty  stories  had  no  point.  But  he 
seemed  open  and  honest,  and  best  of  all,  unfailingly  cheer- 
ful.   His  good  nature  warmed  Lee  like  a  log-fire. 

Some  three  miles  out  from  the  city  hall,  they  disembarked 
and  struck  out  to  the  north.  In  a  few  moments  they  came 
to  an  open  space. 

Eberenz  paused.     "Here's  'Westwood,'  boys,"  he  pro- 


38  THE  GROPER 

claimed  in  an  awed  voice — much  as  a  guide  might  upon 
approaching  a  sacred  shrine. 

Lee  caught  his  spirit  and  stood  looking  at  the  subdivision 
reverently.  Eberenz  led  the  way  through  the  land,  explain- 
ing details  about  the  lots,  pavements,  sewers. 

"Here's  the  first  lot  I  sold,"  he  told  them  at  one  point. 
"The  people  I  closed  with  are  goin'  to  start  buildin'  next 
week.    They  sure  are  glad  they  bought  from  me." 

There  it  was  again — a  bit  crudely,  perchance — the  note  of 
splendid  service  to  one's  fellow  man!  Lee  looked  at  Poole — 
but  the  new  salesman  was  staring  phlegmatically  at  the 
vacant  lots. 

From  "Westwood"  subdivision,  Eberenz  conducted  his  two 
new  disciples  by  circuitous  street-car  rides  to  "Northwood," 
"Poplar  Grove,"  and  finally  to  "Eastwood." 

"You  boys  don't  need  t'  monkey  with  those  other  subs," 
he  directed.  "They're  mostly  sold  out.  But  'Eastwood's* 
just  on  the  market — and  hardly  touched.  The  lots  is  low- 
priced,  an'  you  ought  to  make  your  big  killin's  there." 

It  was  nearly  one  o'clock  when  they  reached  the  office 
again. 

"Now  you  boys  can  either  rest  up  over  Sunday,  an*  make 
the  big  start  Monday  mornin' — or  if  you  know  any  pros- 
pects, why  bring  'em  out  t'  'Eastwood'  to-morrow.  I'll  be 
there  all  day." 

The  two  new  salesmen  walked  up  the  street  together. 

"Well,  what  do  you  think  of  it?"  sounded  Lee. 

Poole  projected  his  undershot  jaw  still  farther  and  rolled 
his  blank  eyes,  so  that  he  resembled  some  belligerent  species 
of  fish. 

"Looks  like  a  fellow  could  pick  up  some  easy  money." 
He  talked  slowly  and  expressed  his  few  ideas  with  great 
difficulty. 

Money-making — that  was  all  poor  old  Poole  could  see 


THE  GROPER  39 

in  the  real  estate  business.  He  caught  none  of  its  romance, 
its  tremendous  possibilities  for  unselfish  service. 

Lee  left  Poole  and  repaired  to  his  favorite  lunch  room. 
He  ate  without  tasting  his  sandwich.  His  eyes  flashed.  He 
could  hardly  keep  from  button-holing  his  nearest  neighbor 
at  the  counter  and  pouring  out  the  glories  of  owning  a  home 
in  "Eastwood" — beautiful  "Eastwood." 

Completely  under  the  spell  of  his  soaring  enthusiasm,  he 
debouched  on  the  street  and  approached  Woodward  avenue. 
Turning  south,  he  mingled  with  the  dense  crowd  of  people 
that  slowly  surged  up  and  down  the  street  in  the  opulent 
autumn  sunshine.  Trolley  cars  clanged,  and  ground  their 
brakes  stridently.  Carriages  and  wagons  clattered  on  the 
broad  asphalt  pavement.  Occasionally  an  automobile  horn 
squawked.  On  all  sides  people  thronged  about  him  closely, 
intimately,  passing  him,  jostling  him.  Every  few  feet  of 
his  slow  progress  a  face  would  fairly  start  out  at  him  from 
the  human  stream  going  north — then  lose  itself  in  the  mass. 
The  roar  of  the  street  rose  and  fell  in  great  rhythms,  like 
pulse-beats  of  gigantic  human  energy. 

The  City! 

Only  yesterday,  the  loneliness,  the  sordidness,  the  ugliness 
of  it  had  overwhelmed  him.  The  tense,  unhappy,  thwarted 
faces  on  its  streets  had  driven  him  in  on  himself.  But  now, 
he  felt  himself  its  master.  He  moved  in  the  vast,  slow  tide 
of  humanity,  no  longer  like  jetsam,  but  with  some  deep 
consciousness  of  power.  All  these  men  who  had  seemed  so 
hostile  were  his  brothers— and  he  would  help  them. 

Lee  Hillquit— the  benefactor  of  the  people!  He  had 
found  a  Great  Mission  in  life.  Incidentally,  he  was  going 
to  make  a  great  deal  of  money. 


VI 

HIS  fine  mood  had  somewhat  abated  the  next  morn- 
ing, but  he  spent  the  day  in  a  haze  of  anticipation. 
In  the  forenoon,  he  found  his  way  to  the  Metho- 
dist church  recommended  by  the  minister  at  Chatham.  He 
had  promised  his  mother  that  he  would  go  to  church  once 
every  Sunday.  He  enjoyed  the  service;  the  sermon  hap- 
pened to  fall  in  very  inspiringly  with  his  high  spiritual 
purpose. 

In  the  afternoon  he  composed  long  letters  to  Vera  and 
his  mother.  Vera  had  not  written  him  a  second  time,  but 
he  found  a  half-dozen  excuses  for  her. 

"The  first  commission  I  make,  I'll  hurry  back  to  Chatham 
and  surprise  her,"  he  resolved.  He  imagined  her  glad  cry  of 
welcome;  he  felt  her  in  his  embrace. 

When  he  arrived  at  the  office  of  the  Security  Realty  Com- 
pany Monday  morning,  the  big  room  was  crowded  with 
salesmen.  He  spoke  to  Mr.  O'Neill  and  threaded  his  way 
down  to  Eberenz's  desk.  Poole  was  there  ahead  of  him — 
that  mustn't  happen  again! — and  before  nine  o'clock  five 
other  salesmen  reported  to  the  optimistic  superintendent. 

Lee  learned  with  considerable  disquietude  that  Poole  had 
brought  a  prospect  out  to  "Eastwood"  Sunday  morning. 
Eberenz  had  helped  Poole,  and  seemed  to  think  the  prospect 
might  buy.     Evidently,  Lee  had  underestimated  his  rival. 

To  both  of  his  new  salesmen,  the  superintendent  now 
turned  over  packs  of  cards  with  names  written  on  them. 

"Call  on  each  one  of  these  people,"  he  directed.  "Get  as 
many  of  'em  interested  as  you  can." 

40 


THE  GROPER  41 

Lee  examined  his  cards  with  consuming  interest.  The  first 
card  read  as  follows:  "James  Hennessey,  225  Saeger  street." 
The  second  card  bore  the  address,  "226  Saeger  street";  the 
third,  "228  Saeger  street.'7  Glancing  through  the  pack,  he 
discovered  that  all  the  addresses  were  on  Saeger  street, 
running  from  No.  225  to  615.  It  struck  him  as  odd  that 
all  these  prospects  should  live  on  the  same  street — and  so 
close  together.  Then  the  probable  explanation  flashed 
through  his  mind:  his  employers  had  seen  that  he  was  an 
especially  promising  new  salesman  and  had  assigned  him 
one  of  their  best  routes. 

"Go  to  it!"  encouraged  Eberenz  with  a  wink  and  an 
expansive  grin.  He  gave  his  new  salesmen  a  stock  of  calling 
cards  bearing  the  Company's  name  and  address.  "Leave  one 
of  these  cards  wherever  they'll  take  it.  Maybe  they'll 
change  their  mind  after  you've  left." 

Saeger  street  proved  to  be  something  of  a  shock.  Lee's 
lithe  imagination  always  visualised  everything  in  advance, 
and  he  had  instinctively  pictured  Saeger  street  as  a  broad, 
asphalt  avenue,  with  neat,  brightly  painted  houses,  well  set 
back  behind  trees  and  green  front  yards.  The  reality  was 
quite  the  reverse:  the  street  was  in  one  of  the  city's  poorest 
quarters;  it  was  narrow  and  not  paved  at  all — a  mass  of 
wet  mud;  the  houses  were  old,  had  long  since  forgotten  the 
feel  of  paint,  and  encroached  on  the  very  edge  of  the  side- 
walks. 

But  Lee's  cheerfulness  was  unquenchable  that  morning. 
The  firm  had  started  him  out  in  an  unprepossessing  district 
to  test  his  mettle.  Well,  he  would  show  them.  Besides, 
what  a  splendid  opportunity  for  doing  good!  How  much 
happier  every  one  of  these  Saeger  street  people  would  be, 
free  from  the  tyranny  of  grasping  landlords,  out  in  the 
fresh  air  and  sunshine  of  beautiful  "Eastwood."  How  they 
would  thank  him  in  later  years  for  showing  them  the  light! 

His  heart  was  beating  faster  than  usual  as  he  mounted 


42  THE  GROPER 

the  sagging  steps  of  No.  225  and  twisted  the  rusty  bell- 
handle.  His  first  call!  The  inception  of  a  notable  career  I 
Some  day,  History  might 

The  door  was  pulled  open,  and  a  gravid,  irascible-eyed 
Irish  woman  confronted  him.  Behind  her,  clinging  to  the 
folds  of  her  calico  "wrapper,"  appeared  a  four-year-old  girl 
with  a  sticky  smear  across  her  face.  From  within  pro- 
ceeded the  petulant  outcries  of  a  baby. 

"Mrs.  Hennessey?"  Lee  raised  his  fedora  and  displayed 
his  most  ingratiating  smile. 

The  woman  wiped  her  hands  on  her  apron,  and  nodded 
with  surly  inquiry.  A  rush  of  warm,  moist,  rancid  air 
enveloped  Lee — assailed  his  nostrils. 

"I  am  Mr.  Hillquit,  from  the  Security  Realty  Company. 
I  understand  you  and  Mr.  Hennessey  are  interested  in  real 
estate,  and  I  want  to  take  you  both  out " 

"What's  that?"  interpolated  Mrs.  Hennessey.  "Who  told 
you  all  that?" 

"I  was  informed  that " 

"Well,  who  informed  you,  is  what  I  want  t'  know." 

The  baby's  cries  became  louder,  more  insistent,  and  Mrs. 
Hennessey  spoke  sharply  to  the  little  girl:  "Go  hush  him 
up,  Gladys — can't  ye?" 

Gladys'  viscid  face  betrayed  extreme  reluctance,  but  she 
disappeared  obediently. 

Lee's  first  instinct  had  been  to  loan  Gladys  his  pocket 
handkerchief;  but  now  a  happier  inspiration  came  to  him. 

"What  a  bright  little  girl,"  he  commented. 

But  Mrs.  Hennessey's  hostile  eyes  did  not  soften.  She 
was  manifestly  above  the  corrupting  influence  of  flattery. 

"Well,"  she  pursued,  "who  told  you?" 

The  new  salesman's  benevolent  smile  began  to  look  a 
thought  artificial.  "Why,  the  officers  of  the  Security  Realty 
Company  gave  me  to  understand  that  you  and  your  hus- 
band were  tired  of  paying  rent  and  were  interested " 


THE  GROPER 


43 


"Never  heard  of  any  of  'em,"  disclaimed  Mrs.  Hennessey 
irately. 

The  baby's  plaints  rose  yet  higher;  evidently  Gladys' 
ministrations  had  proved  completely  unavailing.  Mrs.  Hen- 
nessey moved  a  step  backward  and  made  a  tentative  move- 
ment to  terminate  the  interview. 

"But  you  ought  to  be  interested  in  real  estate.  You  don't 
want " 

"Well,  we  ain't  interested — an'  we  ain't  askin'  any  kids 
like  you  f'r  advice,  neither."  Mrs.  Hennessey  doubtless 
believed  in  bringing  such  skirmishes  to  an  end  while  the 
laurels  rested  with  her;  for  at  this  juncture,  she  closed  the 
door  smartly.  It  might  be  said,  indeed,  that  she  slammed 
it. 

Despite  his  angry  mortification,  Lee  shook  his  head  a  little 
sadly  as  he  descended  the  stairs.  It  was  certainly  too 
bad  when  people  acted  so  unreasonably.  They  were  just 
working  themselves  an  injury,  that  was  all. 

As  he  picked  his  way  between  mud-puddles  across  the 
street,  his  fear  of  ridicule  made  him  look  back  furtively 
at  the  windows  of  the  Hennessey  home.  Mrs.  Hennessey 
had  evidently  sped  back  to  the  baby;  she  was  not  visible; 
but  little  Gladys,  released  from  nurse-maid  duties,  parted 
the  front  curtains  and  stuck  out  her  tongue  at  him  with 
manifest  disdain. 

Number  226  Saeger  street  yielded  no  response  to  Lee's 
vigorous  rings.  He  fancied  he  detected  some  movement 
behind  the  window  curtains.  The  occupants  must  have 
witnessed  his  rebuff  by  Mrs.  Hennessey.  An  alarming  idea 
struck  Lee.  Did  he  look  like  an  "agent"?  Would  people 
refuse  to  answer  door-bells?  Once  more  he  recalled  the 
young  Jew's  sneer  at  insurance  agents.  He  had  been  think- 
ing of  himself  as  a  "representative." 

Number  228  was  vacant;  but  Number  232  proved  friend- 
lier. 


44  THE  GROPER 

"Is  Mr.  Schemansky  in?"  he  inquired  of  the  old  lady  who 
opened  the  door. 

The  old  lady  shook  her  head.  "Oh  no!"  she  informed  him 
in  high  quavering  tones.  "Schemanskys  ain't  lived  here  in 
six  months." 

Lee  started  to  go,  then  turned  back  quickly.  "My  name 
is  Hillquit,"  he  began  again.  "From  the  Security  Realty 
Company.  I  wonder  if  you  people  would  be  interested  in 
looking  at  our  subdivisions.  You  have  to  make  only  a  small 
payment  down,  and  the  rest  in  easy  monthly  installments. 
When  you  have  your  lot  paid  for,  we  loan  you  money  to 
build,  and  you  pay  us  back  just  as  you  would  rent.  Before 
long,  you  own  your  own  home." 

Lee  felt  better.  It  was  pleasant  to  be  permitted  to  ex- 
pound his  brief  argument  without  being  interrupted. 

But  the  old  lady  shook  her  head  once  more.  "My  man, 
he  get  hurt  on  the  railroad  las'  month,  an'  we  must  move 
to  a  cheaper  house.  We  got  no  money  t'  buy  lots  with." 
She  cackled  mirthlessly  at  the  absurdity  of  the  idea. 

At  Number  229,  a  small  boy  told  him  that  both  his 
parents  were  "out  workin'."  Numbers  230,  231  and  233 
produced  decisive  refusals.  Nobody  answered  the  door  bell 
at  235. 

His  tenth  call  brought  the  first  faint  glimmer  of  success. 
Mrs.  Otto  Roehrig,  who  lived  over  the  saloon  at  Number 
240,  listened  to  him  with  seeming  interest.  Finally,  she 
had  him  come  into  her  little  parlor  and  explain  the  whole 
thing  over  again.  She  was  a  young,  sturdy  woman  with  a 
blond,  Saxon  face  and  a  thick  neck  and  arms.  When  he 
dilated  on  the  beauty  of  owning  one's  own  home,  he  saw  her 
hand  tighten.  She  scrutinised  his  plat-maps  with  poorly 
concealed  eagerness. 

She  told  Lee  finally  that  he  had  better  come  some  night 
and  talk  with  her  husband,  who  was  a  foreman  in  a  shoe 
factory. 


THE  GROPER  45 

"I  do  not  think  he  will  buy,"  she  concluded  with  a  trace 
of  regret.    "But  maybe  you  can  persuade  him." 

Greatly  encouraged,  Lee  set  out  again.  At  noon  he 
took  an  hour  off  for  lunch;  then  worked  faithfully  until 
five  o'clock. 

Back  in  his  rooms,  that  night  he  summed  up  his  first 
day's  labors.  He  found  he  had  made  forty-eight  calls. 
On  twenty-seven  cards  he  had  scribbled,  "N.  G.";  on 
ten,  "Moved";  nine,  "Not  home."  The  remaining  two 
calls  had  produced  what  he  believed  were  real  prospects: 
Roehrig  and  a  man  named  Veenfliets.  He  knew  he  had 
made  a  favorable  impression  on  the  two  wives.  He  planned 
to  make  calls  on  the  husbands  some  night  that  week. 

One  thing  puzzled  him.  He  had  taken  it  for  granted, 
from  what  Eberenz  had  said,  that  all  these  people  had  pre- 
viously been  interviewed  by  some  representative  of  the 
Realty  Company.  Obviously,  this  was  not  the  case.  Not 
one  person  had  ever  before  heard  of  the  Security  Realty 
Company. 

But  what  surprised  him  most  was  the  dull  inertia  of  the 
people — the  leaden  weight  of  apathy.  He  had  gone  among 
them  with  the  high  spirit  of  an  evangelist,  intent  on  helping 
them;  and  they  not  only  rejected  his  suggestions— they 
resented  them.  The  common  assumption  seemed  to  be 
that  he  was  trying  to  "put  something  over"  on  them.  Their 
rebuffs  wounded  him  keenly,  dulled  the  fine  edge  of  his 
self-confidence.  Every  time  he  thought  of  going  through 
the  same  ordeal  to-morrow,  and  day  after  to-morrow,  and 
many  days  thereafter,  he  winced  a  little.  But  then  he 
remembered  all  his  splendid  ambitions  for  himself.  He 
thought  of  Vera,  too. 

In  the  morning,  he  seemed  to  have  recovered  all  his  first 
zest.  He  decided  he  must  have  been  very  tired  the  night 
before.    He  must  get  over  being  sensitive. 


46  THE  GROPER 

Eberenz  congratulated  him  warmly  upon  interesting  Mrs. 
Roehrig  and  Mrs.  Veenfliets. 

"That's  fine!  Get  the  women  folks  first.  They're  the 
best  persuaders  in  the  world." 

Lee  began  to  feel  that  he  had  done  rather  well. 

That  day,  he  worked  six  blocks  farther  east  on  Saeger 
street.  His  matutinal  enthusiasm  faded  out  perceptibly  by 
noon  under  the  pitiless  glare  of  continuous  failure.  He  lost 
completely  the  philanthropic  zeal  that  had  thrilled  him  at 
first.  The  work  became  mere  drudgery.  Every  additional 
call  seemed  a  more  galling  ordeal  than  the  last.  Yet  he 
stuck  to  his  guns  doggedly  throughout  the  long  afternoon, 
forcing  himself  to  do  his  best. 

At  last  he  turned  toward  downtown,  his  face  grey  with 
dust,  fatigue  and  discouragement.  He  had  not  ensnared  one 
real  prospect.  Two  men  had  said  they  might  be  interested 
in  the  spring,  and  he  had  left  the  firm's  card  with  each  of 
them.  In  fact,  he  had  distributed  over  twenty  cards  during 
the  two  days,  each  card  with  his  own  name  written  in  the 
lower  left  hand  corner. 

His  woeful  lack  of  success  stirred  up  in  Lee  a  mild  frenzy. 
He  determined  to  call  on  his  two  prospects  of  the  day  before. 

Otto  Roehrig  was  adamant  in  refusing  even  to  discuss  the 
matter  with  Lee.  His  squat  form  blocked  the  doorway;  be- 
hind him,  Lee  caught  sight  of  Mrs.  Roehrig's  wistful  face. 

John  Veenfliets,  however,  listened  willingly  enough  to  his 
arguments,  and  Lee  had  a  feeling  that  here  at  last  he  was 
destined  to  achieve  success.  Veenfliets  was  a  cutter  in  a 
tailor  shop.  His  impassive  Scandinavian  face  was  a  perfect 
mask  to  his  state  of  mind,  but  Lee  fancied  that  he  was 
prepossessed  by  the  idea  of  owning  his  own  home. 

"And  as  an  investment,  the  purchase  of  one  of  our  lots 
would  be  splendid,"  pursued  Lee,  his  altruistic  fervor  ris- 
ing.   "You'll  thank  us  for  selling  it  to  you." 


THE  GROPER 


47 


At  this,  Veenfliets'  broad  countenance  became  obstinate- 
looking. 

"No,  I  t'ink  not."  He  explained  that  he  had  bought  a  lot 
three  years  before  on  a  monthly  payment  plan.  When  he 
had  made  payments  for  a  year,  he  lost  his  position  and  was 
unable  to  keep  up  the  installments.  The  owner  of  the  land 
forfeited  the  contract  and  kept  Veenfliets'  money. 

After  that,  nothing  Lee  could  say  sufficed  to  alter  Veen- 
fliets'  unfavorable  verdict.    The  battle  was  lost. 

Lee  walked  the  three  miles  to  his  rooms.  There  was  no 
denying  that  the  day  had  been  an  absolute  failure.  But 
why?  He  had  worked  faithfully;  he  had  had  the  finest  of 
motives — had  really  tried  to  help  these  people.  It  was  very 
puzzling.  Things  never  eventuated  that  way  in  the  books 
he  had  read. 


vn 

THOSE  first  two  discouraging  days  were  fair  samples 
of  Lee  Hillquit's  life  in  Detroit  that  first  winter. 
The  experience  took  something  away  from  him  that 
he  never  quite  recovered — something  youthful,  joyous,  hope- 
ful, idealistic.  The  ordeal  left  a  scar  upon  his  spirit  that  never 
quite  healed  over.  It  was  part  of  a  process  that  most  ideal- 
ists undergo — a  callousing,  hardening  process  that  dis- 
cards as  futile  all  fine,  whimsical  fancies  and  illusions.  Men 
who  are  born  insensitive,  "practical,"  can  have  no  concep- 
tion of  the  agonising  readjustments  of  this  slow  disillusion. 

Every  morning,  Lee  would  report  at  the  office  punctually, 
and  drink  in  as  much  of  Eberenz's  optimism  as  possible  be- 
fore starting  out  on  his  day's  work.  He  came  to  depend  on 
that  early  talk  with  Eberenz.  The  superintendent  never 
was  pessimistic,  never  intimated  that  Lee  was  anything  but 
an  astounding  success.  Also,  it  was  warm  and  comfortable 
in  the  office,  and  as  winter  came  on,  Lee  fairly  had  to  tear 
himself  away  to  his  daily  drudgery. 

Saturday  was  a  day  he  looked  forward  to  all  week.  The 
salesmen's  meetings  never  failed  to  give  him  an  emotional 
spree,  a  sort  of  pleasurable  titillation.  It  reminded  him  of 
the  time  several  years  back,  when  he  had  been  "converted." 
He  would  go  to  the  salesmen's  meetings  each  week  feeling 
very  unworthy,  just  as  in  high  school  days  he  had  felt  keen 
pleasure  in  attending  the  Chatham  prayer  meetings,  and 
joining  in  the  gospel  hymn: 

"Would  He  devote  that  sacred  head, 
For  such  a  worm  as  I?" 
48 


THE  GROPER 


49 


And  indeed,  he  made  a  practice  of  sidling  into  the  sales- 
men's  meetings  feeling  very  like  a  worm,  because  the  lower 
his  spirits  at  the  beginning  of  the  meeting,  the  more  pro- 
found the  delight  of  listening  to  Mr.  Hauxhurst's  flagellating 
harangue  and  feeling  the  slow  stimulus  to  his  ambition. 
Presently  his  mood  would  vault  to  the  heroic  once  more.  He 
would  sense  the  thrill  of  invincible  determination  all  over 
again.  He  hated  to  leave  the  meetings;  he  got  more  out  of 
them  than  he  did  from  the  church  service  that  he  regularly 
attended  each  Sunday  evening. 

One  of  his  earliest  tragedies  occurred  when  Poole — Poole, 
the  despised,  the  easily  outstripped — took  his  first  prospect 
out  to  "Eastwood"  on  the  third  Sunday,  and  actually  sold 
him  a  lot.  The  prospect  paid  down  fifty  dollars,  ten  per 
cent,  of  the  price  of  the  lot ;  and  the  next  day  Poole  showed 
Lee  a  check  from  the  firm  for  twenty-five  dollars. 

"An'  they's  plenty  more  where  he  come  from,"  he  vaunted, 
his  wide-apart,  irregular  teeth  showing  through  his  droop- 
ing moustache. 

This  was  surely  a  crushing  blow.  A  man  without  half  of 
Lee's  education  or  personal  presence  was  forging  ahead  of 
him  in  the  race.  It  was  but  small  comfort  that  the  weeks 
went  by  without  Poole's  closing  another  deal. 

Lee  completed  his  work  in  Saeger  street  early  in  Novem- 
ber without  achieving  anything  that  even  threatened  to  be- 
come a  sale;  and  started  out  on  a  second,  equally  disrepu- 
table thoroughfare,  designated  Adler  avenue. 

Certain  realisations  began  to  force  themselves  upon  his 
consciousness.  It  became  clear  that  he  was  going  through 
the  day's  work  very  mechanically— merely  observing  out- 
ward forms  as  a  sop  to  his  conscience.  His  early  persuasion 
that  he  was  rendering  these  people  a  splendid  service  had 
almost  entirely  vanished.  They  couldn't  understand  his 
unselfish  attitude.    Besides,  stories  like  Veenfliets'— tales  of 


$o  THE  GROPER 

the  frequent  decline  in  real  estate  values— shook  his  faith  in 
the  righteousness  of  his  mission. 

During  the  first  week,  he  had  set  fifty  calls  as  the 
standard  of  a  day's  work;  and  now  he  found  himself  hurry- 
ing through  this  apportionment  as  rapidly  as  possible,  so 
that  he  might  conscientiously  return  to  the  warmth  of  his 
rooms  and  the  solace  of  a  good  novel.  He  was  no  longer 
disappointed  when  people  failed  to  answer  the  door-bell — 
he  only  rang  once  now — or  when  they  had  moved.  Some 
days  he  made  no  new  calls  at  all,  but  contented  himself 
with  visiting  some  of  the  pseudo-prospects  he  had  called  on 
previously. 

But  a  more  profound  and  devastating  doubt  was  at  work 
in  him.  Instinctively  he  had  a  very  lofty  code  of  personal 
ethics.  He  believed  implicitly  in  the  most  scrupulous  fair- 
ness— "all  the  cards  on  the  table."  It  was  woven  into  the 
very  fibre  of  his  being  to  assume  that  every  man  was  as 
honest  as  himself. 

The  first  shock  to  this  conception  was  the  universal  sus- 
picion and  distrust  of  his  motives.  Lee  had  been  quite 
sincere  in  his  idea  that  he  was  helping  the  people  he  called 
on.  He  was  thoroughly  convinced  that  the  purchase  of  real 
estate  would  make  them  save  money,  would  free  them  from 
the  tentacles  of  grasping  landlords,  and  give  them  the  satis- 
factions of  owning  their  own  homes.  He  was  conscientious 
in  the  extreme.  Yet  the  more  honest  he  tried  to  be,  the 
more  certain  he  was  to  see  a  look  of  suspicion  creep  into 
their  faces. 

One  night  in  November,  for  example,  he  felt  certain  for 
a  few  moments  that  he  was  about  to  make  his  first  sale. 
His  prospect  was  a  stolid  English  widow  who  owned  a 
grocery  store.  Lee  was  sure  she  had  money  and  that  the 
idea  appealed  to  her  as  an  investment.  When  she  agreed 
to  look  at  a  lot  in  "Eastwood"  the  next  morning,  Lee's 
hungry  exhilaration  knew  no  bounds. 


THE  GROPER  511 

An  afterthought  struck  Mrs.  Raymond.  "What  happens 
if  I  can't  make  a  payment?" 

This  was  not  an  unusual  question;  and  Lee  always  en- 
deavored to  be  entirely  frank  in  his  answer.  He  explained 
that  the  company  was  very  liberal  in  such  matters,  but  that 
in  extreme  cases  the  contract  would  probably  be  forfeited. 
As  he  talked  he  watched  the  old  familiar  distrust  grow  in 
her  bland,  inexpressive  face. 

"And  how  much  do  you  say  these  lots  will  increase  in 
value?"  she  demanded. 

Here  was  another  question  that  he  felt  under  obligation 
to  answer  very  honestly — particularly  in  this  instance,  where 
he  was  dealing  with  a  widow. 

"I  think  the  property  is  sure  to  go  up — just  how  much, 
I  can't  say,  of  course,"  he  told  her.  "Very  likely  it  will 
double  in  value  in  ten  years.  Of  course  that  is  only  my 
opinion." 

The  widow  looked  at  him  heavily.  "It  might  go  down," 
she  set  forth. 

Lee  nodded.    "Yes,  it  might,  but  I  don't  think  so." 

At  that,  Mrs.  Raymond  abruptly  decided  not  to  buy  an 
"Eastwood"  lot. 

This  incident  served  to  bring  to  a  head  a  number  of 
questions  that  had  been  taking  shape  in  his  mind.  If  he 
had  only  pooh-poohed  the  very  notion  of  the  owner  forfeiting 
her  contract,  if  he  had  but  assured  her  that  the  land  would 
positively  reap  her  an  enormous  profit,  Mrs.  Raymond 
would  have  bought,  he  felt  sure.  His  scrupulous  honesty 
had  simply  killed  the  sale. 

What  was  he  to  do?  He  wanted  to  be  conscientious;  but 
if  being  conscientious  meant  failure— well,  he  wasn't  so  sure. 

In  the  end,  he  put  the  problem  up  to  Eberenz.  The 
superintendent  had  always  seemed  honest,  without  being 
squeamish. 


52  THE  GROPER 

As  Lee  told  his  story,  he  caught  a  look  of  perplexity  in 
Eberenz's  eye. 

"You're  a  funny  chap,  Hillquit,"  commented  the  super- 
intendent. "I  can't  make  you  out  in  some  ways.  Here's 
the  point  you  don't  get:  sellin'  anything  is  a  fight.  People 
won't  buy  unless  they  have  to.  You  got  t'  persuade  'em 
against  their  wills,  or  they'll  be  persuadin'  you  you're  no 
good.  It's  a  battle  every  minute.  You  got  t'  get  the 
drop  on  'em,  or  they  will  on  you." 

Lee  chewed  on  this  novel  theory  a  moment.  "But  what 
if  people  ask  you  questions?    You  can't  deceive  them." 

"Deceive  'em!  No!"  Eberenz  spat  emphatically.  "Just 
soft-pedal  the  disagreeable  stuff!  Act  as  if  you  didn't 
think  anything  sad  ever  happened  in  life.  Trouble  with  you 
is,  you  tell  'em  all  the  gloomy  stuff  and  act  as  if  you  thought 
it  was  sure  t'  happen." 

All  this  seemed  plausible  enough — and  extraordinarily 
interesting,  in  the  bargain.  "Get  the  drop  on  'em!"  Stop 
arguing,  as  two  reasonable  humans  might  be  expected  to 
do.  Grab  your  prospect  around  the  neck,  figuratively; 
throw  him  down,  and  if  necessary,  jump  on  him  with  both 
feet!  You  might  hurt  him,  but  you  were  really  trying  to 
help  him. 

Lee  made  it  his  business  to  get  acquainted  with  some  of 
the  company's  "star"  salesmen,  and  to  investigate  their 
ethics  toward  prospects.  All  but  one  of  them  upheld  the 
policy  of  open,  honest  dealing.  No  one  could  speak  fairer 
than  they. 

The  one  exception  was  a  tall,  lanky,  shambling  character 
named  Bert  Kirschman,  familiarly  known  as  "Shorty."  He 
looked  fifty,  but  surprised  Lee  one  day  by  disclosing  that 
he  was  only  thirty-six.  He  carried  his  head  a  bit  forward, 
and  seemed  to  peer  out  from  beneath  the  protecting  thickets 
of  his  eye-brows.  His  eyes  were  watery,  his  teeth  dis- 
colored and  irregular. 


THE  GROPER  53 

Him  Lee  came  gradually  to  know.  He  seemed  aloof  and 
surly  much  of  the  time;  but  over  a  cold  stein  of  beer  he 
could  be  relied  on  to  unbend. 

One  day  Lee  broached  the  subject  of  real  estate  ethics. 

"Say,  Shorty,  how  do  you  figure  out  all  this  talk  about 
a  real  estate  man's  duty  to  his  prospects?  Most  of  the 
fellows  claim  they're  always  on  the  square  with  people." 

Kirschman  regarded  Lee  with  a  dubious  eye. 

"What  d'  y'  think  you're  doin'— kiddin'  me?" 

Lee  almost  smiled.  "No,  I'm  perfectly  serious.  I  want 
the  real  dope  about  the  game — that's  all." 

The  successful  salesman  finished  his  beer  and  tapped 
Lee's  chest  with  a  wet  forefinger. 

"That  Sunday  School  talk's  all  bunk,  Sonny.  Every  live 
wire  in  the  office  has  pulled  some  pretty  rough  stuff.  They'll 
tell  a  prospect  anything  in  order  to  sell  him.  I've  done  it, 
and  I'll  do  it  again." 

"But  good  Lord,  Shorty,  you  don't  defend  downright 
dishonesty,  do  you?" 

Kirschman's  look  was  three-quarters  contempt,  and  one- 
quarter  reminiscent  approbation.  "Look  here— you  asked 
me  for  the  real  dope,  didn't  you?  Well  then,  don't  drive 
me  into  playin'  the  hypocrite  too.  Those  other  lads  are 
jus'  kiddin'  you,  and  everybody  in  the  office  is  snickerin'  at 
the  way  you  eat  up  the  God-Awmighty  stuff."  He  rapped 
on  the  bar  impatiently. 

Lee  felt  his  face  grow  red.  "Well,  I've  tried  to  play  the 
game  square,  anyway."  . 

Kirschman  observed  his  questioner's  mortification. 
"Course  you  have,  Kid.  A  lot  of  us  start  that  way— but 
it  can't  be  done."  He  took  an  ample  gulp  out  of  his 
fresh  stein,  and  concluded:  "There's  only  one  question 
people  ask  about  a  man  nowadays-not  what  his  morals 
are,  nor  even  whether  he's  honest  or  not,  but-does  he  get 
away  with  it?" 


54  THE  GROPER 

Other  illuminating  aspects  of  the  real  estate  business 
came  to  light  at  intervals. 

Late  one  afternoon,  Lee  stopped  in  at  the  office  to 
replenish  his  supply  of  calling  cards.  He  found  O'Neill 
and  Eberenz  in  the  sales  manager's  office  talking  with  a 
middle-aged  woman.  Presently  the  woman  burst  into  tears 
and  left  the  office. 

"What's  the  row?"  Lee  asked  as  Eberenz  came  back  to 
his  desk. 

The  superintendent  ran  his  finger  around  the  inside  of 
his  collar.  "Oh,  just  a  fool  woman  wantin'  her  money  back. 
More'n  a  year  overdue  in  her  payments  already.  Nothin, 
for  us  t'  do  but  cancel." 

Toward  the  middle  of  December,  Lee  missed  Poole.  His 
rival  had  made  no  further  sales,  and  Lee  had  remarked 
his  increasing  gauntness  of  aspect,  the  frayed  edges  of  his 
coat  sleeves,  the  growing  slovenliness  of  his  linen. 

"He's  quit,"  vouchsafed  Eberenz  lightly.  "He  didn't 
have  no  guts.    I  knowed  he  couldn't  make  good." 

Next  week,  Lee  came  upon  Poole  in  a  Sherman  street 
car.  The  ex-salesman's  lean  lower  jaw  protruded  even 
farther  than  before;  his  attenuation  of  feature  was  startling. 
Lee  couldn't  help  feeling  sorry  for  his  late  rival.  Poole's 
pretence  that  he  had  secured  some  mysterious  and  superior 
employment  was  pathetically  palpable.  It  was  only  when 
he  finally  broke  out  about  the  Security  Realty  Company 
that  he  became  convincing. 

"Damn  'em!"  he  swore,  looking  more  than  ever  like  a 
highly  indignant  shad.  "Pump  a  man  full  of  hot  air,  so's 
he'll  starve  himself  tryin'  t'  sell  their  filthy  lots.  Copy 
names  out  of  the  directory  onto  cards,  and  make  a  man 
think  they're  givin'  him  names  of  real  prospects.  Tell  him 
V  leave  their  cards  everywhere,  so's  they'll  git  plenty  of 
free  advertisin'I    Let  a  man  start  out  to  learn  the  game  in 


THE  GROPER  $$ 

the  fall,  when  they  know  dam'  well  nobody  can  sell  lots 
except  in  spring  an'  summer.  They're  a  bunch  of  crooks, 
an'  if  you  got  any  sense,  Hillquit,  you'll  do  jus'  what  I 
done — give  'em  a  good  bawlin'  out,  an'  ditch  'em." 


vni 

OTHER  troubles  deepened  his  slough  of  despond  these 
bleak  December  days. 
He  still  wrote  to  his  mother  and  Vera  with  spe- 
cious, hazy  optimism.  Both  of  them  had  been  urging  him 
all  fall  to  spend  a  week-end  at  Chatham;  and  his  excuses 
had  become  increasingly  lame.  He  still  adhered  tenaciously 
to  his  first  resolution — not  to  go  home  until  he  had  made 
his  first  sale. 

Vera,  in  particular,  waxed  almost  insistent.  He  was 
conscious  of  a  beseeching  note  in  her  recent  letters.  "I  need 
you,  dear,"  she  had  written  him.  "Why  don't  you  come 
to  me?"  He  had  sent  her  some  unconvincing  excuse,  and 
thereafter  he  fancied  he  could  detect  a  subtle  change  in 
the  spirit  of  her  letters,  something  increasingly  apathetic. 

But  he  had  no  money  to  waste  in  railroad  fare.  He 
needed  every  penny  of  his  mother's  remittances  to  defray 
his  actual  living  expenses. 

Without  doubt,  his  mother  would  gladly  have  sent  him 
the  necessary  additional  money.  She  hinted  as  much  in 
more  than  one  letter.  But  it  hurt  Lee's  pride  enough  to 
take  his  regular  allowance  of  ten  dollars  without  asking  for 
more.  Twenty-three  years  old — and  living  on  his  mother's 
bounty!  The  thought  was  deeply  galling.  Besides,  he  knew 
she  couldn't  afford  it.  It  must  be  a  serious  problem  for 
her  to  make  ends  meet  on  what  she  had  left  of  her  annuity. 
Vera  inadvertently  disclosed  the  fact  that  his  mother  was 
giving  piano  lessons.  It  was  all  too  evident  she  had  been 
forced  to  do  so  to  eke  out  a  living. 

To  all  his  other  distressing  troubles,  add  a  particularly 
insidious  one — loneliness. 

56 


THE  GROPER  57 

His  only  familiar  was  Bob  Hamilton;  and  Bob  was  ex- 
actly the  wrong  sort  of  companion  for  a  man  in  Lee's 
predicament.  There  was  nothing  robust  about  Bob's  spirit. 
Instead,  he  was  tremulously  self-abasing,  forever  deprecating 
himself,  wondering  why  he  wasn't  more  successful  in  his 
newspaper  work. 

Lee's  one  other  friend  in  the  city,  Fred  Badger,  had 
failed  to  telephone  him  after  their  first  meeting.  It  was 
not  until  the  middle  of  November — two  months  after  his 
arrival  in  Detroit — that  Lee  again  encountered  him  on  the 
street.  Fred  was  not  even  apologetic.  He  seemed  friendly 
enough,  but  so  breezy,  so  self-sufficient. 

Lee,  however,  could  not  help  pouring  out  something  of 
his  troubles. 

"That's  tough,  old  top!"  There  was  no  real  concern 
in  Fred's  tone.  His  eyes  were  alert,  combative;  and  Lee 
was  once  more  conscious  that  he  was  being  appraised — only 
this  time,  his  friend's  verdict  seemed  more  definitely  un- 
favorable. 

Fred  turned  away.  "Well,  so-long.  Get  your  shoulders 
into  it!     See  you  soon!" 

A  few  weeks  afterward,  Lee's  sense  of  loneliness  got  the 
better  of  his  pride.  He  telephoned  Fred,  and  was  over- 
joyed when  his  friend  accepted  his  invitation  to  lunch. 

At  first  Fred  seemed  to  be  exhibiting  the  same  aloof 
attitude;  but  over  their  coffee,  he  suddenly  became  expan- 
sive about  himself.  Times  were  really  hard  for  bond  sales- 
men, he  confided;  but  he  himself  had  done  very  well.  He 
related  various  encounters— always  victorious  encounters— 
with  the  city's  leading  bankers.  Lee,  ever  given  to  taking 
people  at  their  own  estimate,  regarded  Fred  enviously.  His 
very  appearance  breathed  success;  there  seemed  power  in 
his  prominent  brows.  He  was  not  boastful,  yet  he  had  an 
easy  self-confidence  that  readily  convinced  people  of  his 
ability. 


58  THE  GROPER 

He  was  "in  Society,"  too.  He  spoke  lightly  of  dinner 
dances  and  theatre  parties. 

"By  the  way,  how  do  you  stand  on  the  girl  question?" 
he  asked  abruptly. 

Lee  intimated  that  his  affections  were  engaged  by  a  "girl 
back  in  Chatham." 

"How  much  money  has  she?"  the  young  bond  salesman 
inquired. 

Lee,  taken  aback,  became  evasive.  "I  never  thought 
much  about  that  part  of  it,"  he  set  forth. 

"Well,  you'd  better."  Fred  leaned  forward.  "Marriage 
makes  or  breaks  a  man.  The  chap  who  marries  the  right 
sort  of  girl  is  practically  made." 

"What  do  you  mean  by  the  'right  sort  of  girF?" 

"Oh,  I  guess  you  know  what  I  mean."  Fred  showed  his 
even,  white  teeth.  "A  girl  that  can  help  him.  If  she  has 
money,  so  much  the  better.  Anyway,  she's  got  to  have 
position,  influence.  Between  you  and  me,  I  think  it's  a 
mistake  for  a  young  fellow  to  marry  an  out-of-town  girl." 

This  was  a  novel  viewpoint  on  matrimonial  standards. 

"Understand,  I'm  not  saying  a  word  against  the  girl 
'back  home,' "  protested  Fred.  "I'm  only  looking  at  mar- 
riage from  a  practical  standpoint.  Here  you  are  in  Detroit, 
just  starting  out.  Right  now,  you're  sort  of  unplaced — 
that  is,  you  have  no  fixed  position,  socially  or  financially. 
An  unattached  young  man — a  college  man,  especially — can 
almost  pick  his  own  crowd.  He  can  travel  middle-class  or 
high-class,  just  as  he  wants.  It  almost  all  depends  on  the 
women  he  goes  with.  Maybe  you  don't  realise  how  much 
influence  women  have.  You  marry  some  girl  without  money 
or  position,  and  everybody'll  snub  you.  But  marry  a  girl 
in  the  right  set,  and  the  way's  paved  for  you." 

Lee  was  impressed,  but  skeptical.  "You  don't  honestly 
believe  in  marrying  for  money?" 

Fred's  lower  lip  protruded  judicially.     "If  you  put  it 


THE  GROPER 


59 


that  way — no.  But  I  believe  it's  just  as  easy  to  fall  in 
love  with  a  girl  who  has  money  as  with  one  who  hasn't. 
It  depends  on  what  sort  of  girls  you're  training  with.  As 
I  see  this  love  game,  it's  all  a  matter  of  propinquity." 

Lee  couldn't  help  launching  into  a  spirited  defence  of 
disinterested,  exalted  love;  but  Fred  remained  quite  un- 
convinced, and  a  little  disdainful,  besides. 

At  two  o'clock  he  alleged  an  important  engagement  and 
left  his  host  with  disconcerting  briskness.  ► 

"You  must  have  lunch  with  me  some  day  soon,"  he 
averred,  and  was  off. 

In  spite  of  Fred's  apparent  lack  of  interest  in  everybody 
but  himself,  Lee  felt  that  the  luncheon  had  been  a  success. 
It  was  the  first  oasis  after  a  long  stretch  of  arid  days.  He 
hoped  Fred  would  telephone  him  soon.  Not  that  he  agreed 
with  his  friend's  ideas  about  marriage.  They  sounded 
mercenary,  he  thought,  in  spite  of  Fred's  plausible  way  of 
putting  them.  Why,  he  could  no  more  think  of  giving  up 
Vera  for  some  rich  city  girl  than  he  could  consider  purse- 
snatching  as  a  profession. 

Still,  he  was  vaguely  pleased  by  Fred  Badger's  assurance 
that  he  might,  if  he  chose,  become  a  "Society  man."  There 
was  an  alluring  glamor  surrounding  that  mysterious  world 
of  dinner-dances,  balls,  teas.  He  observed  haughty  looking 
girls  in  limousines;  they  must  be  debutantes.  He  had 
noticed  pictures  of  prominent  "Society  women"  in  the  Sun- 
day newspapers.  He  began  to  read  the  "Social  Columns," 
and  tried  to  imagine  the  delights  of  such  an  existence. 
Whenever  he  came  across  Fred  Badger's  name,  he  felt  a 
glow  of  pride  in  their  friendship. 

He  still  went  to  the  Methodist  church  at  least  once  on 
Sunday.  He  had  presented  a  letter  of  introduction  to  the 
Reverend  Twiggs,  the  minister,  soon  after  coming  to  Detroit, 
and  within  a  few  weeks  had  transferred  his  membership 
from  the  Chatham  church.    [The  deacons  of  the  city  church. 


6o  THE  GROPER 

had  taken  note  of  his  coming;  he  was  early  solicited  to 
take  a  class  in  the  Sunday  School,  but  compromised  by 
serving  as  substitute  usher  Sunday  nights. 

His  church  connection  ought  to  have  given  him  the  nec- 
essary social  outlet,  but  somehow  the  spirit  of  that  particular 
church  failed  to  appeal  to  him.  Possibly,  his  University 
life  had  made  him  skeptical  about  all  religious  creeds.  And 
the  people  themselves  he  found  narrow-minded  and  decid- 
edly cold.  Three-fourths  of  the  congregation  were  women; 
the  few  men  he  saw  were  wishy-washy  specimens. 

One  blustery  Wednesday  night  in  December,  when  Lee 
happened  to  be  attending  prayer-meeting,  an  untoward  inci- 
dent happened.  The  worshippers  had  just  finished  singing 
"Throw  Out  the  Life  Line."  During  the  period  given  over 
to  "Personal  Experiences,"  an  unkempt,  forlorn  looking  man 
rose  from  the  last  row  of  chairs  in  the  chapel.  Everybody 
felt  a  little  twitch  of  surprise  at  the  appearance  of  such  a 
person  in  the  meeting. 

"I've  been  in  Detroit  a  week  looking  for  work,"  explained 
the  shabby  intruder.  "I  haven't  had  anything  to  eat  for 
two  days,  and  I'm  desperate.  If  any  of  you  church  people 
can  help  me  land  a  job,  I  beg  you  to  do  it.  If  I  can't 
get  work,  I'm  going  down  to  the  foot  of  Woodward  Avenue 
and  jump  in  the  river." 

The  man  spoke  in  a  low,  distinct  voice,  in  educated 
accents.  There  was  a  perceptible  flutter  of  excitement 
among  the  worshippers.  Meanwhile  the  stranger  stood 
motionless. 

The  Reverend  Twiggs  coughed  nervously;  some  of  the 
deacons  threw  disturbed  glances  at  the  man;  but  no  one 
moved. 

The  tension  lasted  a  moment  longer,  then  the  unkempt 
man  gave  a  little  contemptuous  laugh  and  left  the  chapel. 

A  buzz  of  whispering  rose.    Two  deacons  followed  the 


THE  GROPER  6i! 

man  out,  and  Lee  breathed  more  easily.  Surely  they  would 
do  something. 

Almost  immediately  the  meeting  sang  "God  Be  With 
You  Till  We  Meet  Again,"  and  received  the  Reverend 
Jwiggs'  benediction. 

Then  there  was  a  rush  into  the  corridors.  The  two 
deacons  were  there — but  not  the  suppliant  for  help.  They 
had  let  the  man  go  out  into  the  storm  after  all.  One  of 
them  gave  the  reason: 

"We  smelled  liquor  on  his  breath." 

Somehow  this  failed  to  satisfy  Lee.  The  man  really 
seemed  sincere  in  wanting  work.  If  he  had  been  drinking, 
that  was  additional  reason  why  church  members  should  give 
him  a  helping  hand.  But  every  one  seemed  to  approve  of 
what  the  deacons  had  done.  There  was  a  general  feeling 
of  indignation  that  such  a  man  should  have  been  permitted 
to  disturb  the  prayer-meeting;  and  Olaf,  the  janitor,  was 
reprimanded  for  not  having  intercepted  him.  The  worship- 
pers wanted  no  more  raw  life  to  break  through  into  their 
steam-heated  religious  atmosphere. 

The  following  Sunday  evening  another  illuminating  ex- 
perience befell  Lee. 

One  of  the  ushers,  a  poor-complexioned,  colorless  young 
fellow  named  Templeton  Beman,  approached  him  shortly 
before  the  service,  and  drew  a  folded  document  from  an 
inside  pocket. 

"Say,  sign  this,  will  you?    All  the  other  ushers  have." 

Lee  observed  a  printed  petition  at  the  top  of  the  paper. 

"What  is  it  for?"  he  asked,  as  he  reached  for  his  pencil. 

"It's  to  abolish  all  Catholic  nunneries— tear  'em  down  to 
the  ground,"  Beman  expounded. 

"But  why?"  Lee  backed  away  a  little  to  avoid  the  other 
usher's  bad  breath. 

"Why?"  demanded  Beman  incredulously.  "Because 
they're  Roman  Catholic  prisons,  that's  why.    Haven't  you 


62  THE  GROPER 

ever  heard  how  they  seal  up  young  girls — Protestant  girls, 
too — inside  cells  and  let  'em  starve  to  death,  'cause  they 
won't  turn  Catholic?" 

Lee  took  simultaneous  note  of  Beman's  soiled  collar  and 
ignorant,  fanatical  eyes.  "Why  no,  I  can't  sign  this,"  he 
decided.  "I  don't  know  that  what  you  say  is  true;  and 
until  I  have  positive  proof,  I  believe  in  letting  everybody 
worship  in  his  own  way." 

Beman's  bigoted,  bespectacled  countenance  reflected  utter 
amazement. 

"I  didn't  know  you  was  a  friend  of  Rome,"  was  his 
crushing  retort.  He  would  hardly  speak  to  Lee  thereafter; 
he  whispered  the  scandal  to  the  other  ushers. 

Here  was  as  dangerous  and  morbid  a  religious  fanatic  as 
any  Jesuit  priest  that  ever  drew  breath.  Lee  glanced  over 
the  faces  of  the  congregation.  Obviously,  there  were  many 
Bemans  among  them. 

The  annual  business  meeting  of  the  church  the  week 
before  Christmas  helped  complete  Lee's  distaste  for  the 
spirit  of  his  church.  He  had  already  experienced  its  un- 
charitableness  and  its  bigotry.  Now  he  was  to  witness 
downright  sordidness.  When  the  members  began  to  bid 
for  the  choicest  pews  in  the  church,  the  House  of  God 
changed  instantly  into  a  clamorous  market.  Lee  saw  men 
grow  red  with  anger,  as  their  favorite  pews  were  bought 
away  from  them;  saw  fists  raised  in  the  air;  heard  excited, 
angry  voices. 

A  still  more  arresting  phenomenon  was  destined  to  pre- 
sent itself  to  his  scrutiny  that  night. 

As  he  walked  up  the  street  towards  home,  a  girl  spoke 
to  him.  She  was  standing  on  a  corner,  under  a  street  light. 
He  lifted  his  hat  politely  under  the  impression  that  she 
had  asked  him  a  question. 

"I  beg  your  pardon,"  he  said.  "I  didn't  understand 
what  you  said." 


THE  GROPER  63 

Then  all  at  once  he  saw  her  face.  She  was  young  and 
rather  pretty,  except  for  the  too-conspicuous  nostrils  of  her 
upturned  nose.  Her  mouth  was  defiant,  and  her  high 
cheek-bones  were  rouged. 

His  heart  pounded  in  his  chest.  The  girl  was  a  prosti- 
tute! He  had  heard  about  such  women,  of  course;  he 
fancied  he  had  seen  them  in  the  streets  before  this.  But 
here  was  one  actually  brazen  enough  to  accost  him.  He 
stiffened  with  horror. 

The  girl  smiled.  A  gold  crown  on  one  of  her  teeth 
glistened  in  the  white  light  from  the  arc-lamp. 

"Hello,  kiddo,"  she  said. 

He  glanced  apprehensively  up  the  avenue.  What  if  any 
one  should  see  him  I 

"What  do  you  want?"  he  asked  in  tones  that  were  calcu- 
lated to  be  righteously  indignant,  but  only  sounded  tremu- 
lous. 

By  way  of  unequivocal  answer,  the  girl  made  use  of  a 
revolting  expression  that  fairly  paralysed  him. 

"I  guess  you've  made  a  mistake,"  he  said  stiffly,  and 
walked  away. 

He  waited  for  the  traditional  scornful  laugh,  but  none 
came.  He  chanced  a  quick  look  back,  and  found  the 
girl  staring  soberly  after  him.  Standing  there  in  the  cold, 
she  looked  forlorn  rather  than  wicked. 

He  wondered  why  the  girl  on  the  street  corner  seemed 
more  real,  more  vital,  than  most  of  his  fellow  church 
members. 


IX 

LEE  spent  Christmas  and  the  holidays  alone  in 
Detroit.  Even  Bob  Hamilton  went  home  for  a 
couple  of  days. 

When  Lee  wrote  that  he  would  be  unable  to  leave  the 
city,  Mrs.  Hillquit  suggested  that  she  would  like  to  come 
to  Detroit.  But  he  discouraged  the  project  and  promised 
to  go  home  within  a  week  or  two  after  New  Year's.  Vera 
also  wrote  a  discouraged  little  note  asking  him  if  he  had 
really  stopped  caring  for  her. 

Late  New  Year's  Eve,  he  sat  in  his  deserted  rooms,  for- 
lornly wondering  how  much  longer  he  could  keep  his  courage 
up. 

All  at  once,  a  factory  whistle  opened  noisy  salute  to  the 
New  Year.  The  tumult  grew:  other  whistles,  deep  and 
vibrant  or  high  and  shrill,  some  near,  some  distantly  faint, 
swelled  the  chorale.  Now  the  sounds  of  deep-throated 
church  bells  came  eddying  and  volleying  through  the  winter 
air. 

Lee  switched  off  the  light,  opened  the  window  a  little. 
There  was  something  eerie,  supernatural,  in  the  shrieking 
of  the  whistles,  in  the  wafted  sounds  of  the  bells.  Something 
inspiring,  too — an  imperious  summons  to  new  ambition, 
new  determination. 

He  had  yielded  too  easily,  too  cravenly.  He  hadn't  half 
tried.  His  ambition  stirred,  his  hope  revived.  He  took  a 
great  resolve.  He  would  make  a  success  of  the  real  estate 
business.  Nothing  should  keep  him  back.  He  would 
marry  Vera  in  the  spring.     Poor  Vera!     No  wonder  she 

64 


THE  GROPER  65 

was  perplexed  and  discouraged.  And  his  mother,  too:  how 
overjoyed  she  would  be  at  his  success.  All  his  doubts  about 
life,  all  his  misgivings  about  the  real  estate  business,  van- 
ished like  mists  before  the  warmth  of  his  new  and  splendid 
enthusiasm. 

He  pulled  the  old  volume  of  "Fisk's  Encyclopaedia"  from 
his  trunk  and  turned  to  the  pictures  of  "The  Two  Paths." 
He  looked  at  himself  in  the  mirror.  Thank  Heaven,  no 
marks  of  dissipation  or  signs  of  failure  yet  revealed  them- 
selves on  his  face.  There  was  still  time  for  him  to  choose 
the  right  path,  to  go  down  through  life  a  respected  and 
successful  man. 

The  second  day  of  January,  accordingly,  found  Lee  start- 
ing out  all  over  again,  with  an  invincible  determination  to 
succeed.  Eberenz  noted  the  change,  congratulated  him,  and 
prophesied  an  early  triumph  for  him. 

Success,  it  seemed,  remained  coy,  notwithstanding.  Lee 
fought  on  stubbornly.  Each  week-day  in  January  and  Feb- 
ruary, he  trudged  conscientiously  from  door  to  door,  spread- 
ing the  gospel  of  home  ownership,  battling  the  ignorance  and 
short-sightedness  of  landlords'  victims,  meeting  rebuffs  and 
suspicion  with  a  set  smile.  He  shut  his  mind  to  the  pos- 
sibility of  failure— even  though  the  days  went  by  without 
bringing  the  faintest  shimmer  of  hope.  Nobody  liked  the 
idea  of  going  out  to  look  over  windswept  subdivisions  in 
the  dead  of  winter.  The  force  of  salesmen  of  the  Security 
Realty  Company  dwindled  to  a  mere  handful. 

The  weather  grew  colder  and  colder.  Some  days,  Lee 
suffered  intensely  from  the  piercing  winter  air.  The  matter 
of  clothing  loomed  up  as  a  source  of  worry.  He  had  been 
able  to  buy  nothing  new.  His  last  year's  winter  suit  was 
beginning  to  wear  ominously  thin  in  spots.  His  overcoat 
was  really  nothing  but  a  raincoat.  It  seemed  to  offer  only 
a  faint-hearted  resistance  to  the  cold. 

One  night,  he  returned  to  his  room  to  find  a  disturbing 


66  THE  GROPER 

letter  from  his  mother.    She  first  recounted  the  usual  details 
of  her  daily  existence. 

"There's  something  I  feel  it  my  duty  to  write  you  about," 
her  last  paragraph  began.  "Something  about  Vera.  I  don't 
think  she  is  doing  quite  right  by  you.  Milo  Higginson  comes 
over  from  Record  pretty  near  every  day  to  see  her,  and  I 
hear  things  about  them.  You  know  Mrs.  Wakefield  is  very 
ambitious  for  Vera.  I  am  only  telling  you  this  so  you  will 
be  on  your  guard. 

"Your  loving  mother." 

Lee  stared.  Then  he  laughed.  If  there  was  one  certainty 
in  the  world — one  fixed  star  in  the  heavens — it  was  Vera's 
trustworthiness.  He  needn't  worry  about  Vera.  She  loved 
him,  he  knew;  and  she  would  always  love  him.  A  mutual 
devotion  like  theirs  was  eternal.  For  an  instant  he  had 
a  blind  instinct  to  rush  to  the  station  and  catch  the  first 
train  for  Chatham. 

True,  Vera's  letters  were  increasingly  colorless.  She 
was  suffering  as  cruelly  as  he  from  their  enforced  separation, 
and  he  saw  no  reason  why  she  shouldn't  let  other  men  call 
on  her. 

"Milo  Higginson!"  he  grinned.  "The  idea  of  Vera  ever 
falling  in  love  with  a  red-faced  dough-head  like  him!" 

When  he  wrote  his  mother,  he  ignored  her  accusations. 
But  Mrs.  Hillquit  seemed  insistent. 

"I  hope  you  weren't  hurt  by  what  I  said  about  Vera," 
her  next  letter  ran.  "I  only  didn't  want  you  to  be  fooled 
by  her." 

Lee  smiled  and  read  on. 

"You  don't  write  when  you  are  coming  home,  my  dear  son, 
nor  how  you  are  getting  along.  Don't  you  think  you  have 
had  about  enough  of  Detroit?  I  do  so  wish  sometimes  that 
you  would  see  your  way  clear  to  coming  back  to  Chatham 
and  settling  down  here.  I  know  you  could  get  a  good  posi- 
tion in  the  bank." 

During  the  winter  months,  he  continued  to  attend  church 
Sunday  evenings,  in  spite  of  his  distaste  for  certain  aspects 


THE  GROPER  67 

of  applied  Christianity.  Acting  as  usher  was  a  change  and 
a  relief  from  his  hard  work  during  the  week.  It  gave  him 
a  pleasant  sense  of  self-importance  to  show  people  to  their 
pews,  to  help  take  up  the  collection.  He  enjoyed  the  big 
pipe-organ,  and  he  liked  to  watch  the  people  and  to  speculate 
about  the  more  prominent  members.  He  even  contrived  to 
be  introduced  to  some  of  them. 

He  could  not  help  noticing  how  his  fellow-ushers  always 
manoeuvred  for  the  honor  of  showing  a  certain  distinguished- 
woman  to  her  accustomed  place. 

"Who  is  she?"  he  asked  the  head  usher  one  Sunday  night. 

The  other  expanded  with  the  sense  of  portentous  reve- 
lation. "Why,  that's  Mrs.  Tom  Curran,  the  richest  woman 
in  the  church.  She  owns  one-third  of  the  Curran  store  down 
on  Woodward  Avenue." 

After  that,  Lee  observed  Mrs.  Curran  more  closely,  when- 
ever she  came  to  church.  She  was  a  woman  of  about  forty, 
a  little  below  average  height,  with  a  slender,  well-formed 
figure.  Her  eyes  were  markedly  black;  they  dominated  her 
whole  face.  She  always  wore  simple,  but  very  stylish 
clothing.  Most  startling  of  all,  she  came  to  church  in  a 
closed  automobile,  driven  by  a  chauffeur. 

When  Lee  was  introduced  a  few  Sundays  later,  he  was 
tremendously  overawed. 

Mrs.  Curran  gave  him  a  quick  comprehensive  look. 

"How  long  have  you  been  here?" 

"Just  a  few  months,"  stumbled  Lee.  "I  only  graduated 
from  college  last  spring." 

Mrs.  Curran  made  use  of  one  or  two  conventionally 
pleasant  expressions,  and  passed  on. 

What  a  remarkable  woman!  He  made  inquiries  about 
her.  Her  husband  had  been  one  of  the  three  founders  and 
partners  of  the  great  department  store  of  Curran  &  Com- 
pany; and  when  he  died,  Mrs.  Curran  had  inherited  his 
stock  in  the  concern.    She  was  worth  anywhere  from  one 


68  THE  GROPER 

hundred  thousand  dollars  to  half  a  million.  She  had  no 
children.  Her  house  was  on  Wells  street,  a  fashionable  ave- 
nue running  off  Woodward.  She  was  a  member  of  Detroit's 
oldest  and  most  exclusive  social  circle. 

Thenceforth  Mrs.  Curran  always  spoke  pleasantly  to  him. 
One  Sunday  night  after  the  service  was  over,  she  stopped 
a  moment  by  the  door  where  he  was  standing. 

"Do  you  ever  go  to  concerts?"  she  inquired. 

Lee  shook  his  head.  "I  haven't  gone  to  any  here,  though 
I  do  like  music." 

Mrs.  Curran  held  out  a  ticket.  "Wouldn't  you  like  to 
use  this  Tuesday  night?  It's  for  the  New  York  Symphony 
concert.  I  just  happen  to  have  this  extra  ticket  on  my 
hands." 

Lee  took  the  ticket  and  thanked  her  profusely. 

"It's  awfully  nice  of  you,"  he  said. 

The  great  lady  smiled  benignantly.  "I  never  like  to  see 
a  ticket  go  to  waste." 

Tuesday  night  Lee  made  his  way  to  the  Light  Guard 
Armory  in  a  state  of  high  excitement.  Self-consciously  he 
followed  an  usher  down  one  of  the  side  aisles  to  a  seat  in  the 
tenth  row.  Safely  there,  he  looked  furtively  about  him.  It 
was  his  first  symphony  orchestra  concert.  The  seventy 
musicians  were  already  on  the  stage,  and  an  utter  confusion 
of  sound  attended  their  efforts  to  tune  up.  All  around,  Lee 
beheld  impressive  men  and  women  in  immaculate  evening 
dress.  In  contrast  with  them,  he  felt  obscure  and  inconse- 
quential in  his  worn  business  suit. 

His  awed  gaze  swept  the  row  of  boxes  that  fringed  the 
balcony.  In  one  box  a  little  to  the  left,  his  eye  rested  on  a 
familiar  figure.  It  was  Fred  Badger — attired  as  impeccably 
as  any  other  member  of  the  gay  box-party.  Lee  stared 
curiously  at  the  three  girls  who  sat  in  the  first  row  of  the 
box.  Their  faces  he  could  not  descry,  but  he  pictured  them 
as  indubitably  beautiful.    They  must  be  "Society  girls" — 


THE  GROPER  69 

debutantes,  very  likely.  Fred  leaned  forward  attentively 
over  one  of  them — a  girl  with  light  hair.  Perhaps  she  was 
the  heiress  that  Fred  was  looking  for.    Lucky  Fredl 

Scattered  hand-clapping  announced  the  conductor  of  the 
orchestra.  He  bowed  to  the  audience  gravely,  tapped  smart- 
ly on  his  desk,  raised  his  baton — and  the  concert  began. 

Much  of  the  music  made  no  appeal  to  Lee.  The  "Corio- 
lanus  Overture"  left  him  puzzled.  He  could  find  little  mel- 
ody in  the  showy  Russian  trifles  that  ended  the  programme. 
The  Tchaikowsky  Symphony — the  "Pathetique" — opened 
inauspiciously,  too.  Then  all  at  once  the  violins  broke 
out  into  a  sweeping,  stirring  theme  that  held  him  spell- 
bound. Throughout  the  symphony,  indeed,  his  emotions 
remained  tumultuous. 

"That's  wonderful!"  he  thought. 

When  the  concert  was  over,  he  reluctantly  joined  the 
slow-moving  crowd  that  choked  the  aisles.  He  was  sorry 
the  evening  had  come  to  an  end.  It  had  been  an  exciting 
event  for  him.  He  wondered  why  most  of  the  people  looked 
so  bored. 

His  slow  progress  brought  him  at  last  to  the  Brush 
street  door.  Outside  he  heard  the  hoarse  shouts  of  the 
doorman,  calling  carriage  numbers.  All  about  him  were 
awesome  "Society"  men  and  women.  Lee  stared.  What  was 
the  badge  of  their  superior  breeding?  Some  of  them  looked 
disdainful,  some  morose.  A  few— the  women  mostly- 
talked  volubly,  with  a  great  show  of  teeth.  Their  laughter 
seemed  shrill,  he  thought. 

Lee  felt  forlorn,  almost  ignominious,  decidedly  out  of  all 
this  consciously  superior  set.  He  was  painfully  aware  of 
cutting  a  poor  figure. 

"Oh,  I  think  Damrosch  is  simply  adorable!  a  girl  s  voice 
confided,  almost  behind  him.  • 

Lee  looked  around,  and  suddenly  felt  an  elated  thrill. 


70  THE  GROPER 

For  the  girl  was  speaking  to  none  other  than  Fred  Badger, 
resplendent  in  a  top  hat  and  evening  dress. 

Lee's  pride  came  to  life.  He  knew  some  one  in  this  gay 
company,  after  all. 

"Hello,  Fred!"  he  said,  and  raised  his  soft  hat  gaily. 

Fred  Badger's  eyes  rested  on  him — seemed  to  be  apprais- 
ing every  detail  of  his  drab  appearance. 

Yes,  Fred  was  looking  directly  at  him — or  was  it  through 
him?  Slowly  it  came  to  Lee  that  his  friend  was  deliberately 
cutting  him.    His  mouth  opened,  his  cheeks  grew  warm. 

The  girl  was  staring  at  him,  too — haughtily. 

"Thirty-seven!"  shouted  the  door-man. 

Fred's  unrecognising  eyes  at  last  left  Lee's  erubescent 
countenance.  "That's  our  number,"  he  vouchsafed  to  the 
girl.  They  hastened  down  the  remaining  steps  and  hurried 
outside. 

Lee  stood  there  numbly  a  moment  more,  then  dragged 
himself  home.  Of  all  his  tribulations  since  he  had  come  to 
Detroit,  none  had  hurt  him  quite  so  grievously  as  this. 
He  felt  very  much  like  a  friendly  puppy  that  has  just 
received  its  first  kick. 

Fred  was  ashamed  of  him,  thought  friendship  with  him 
a  handicap  to  his  own  success. 

So  passed  for  Lee  the  illusion  about  the  eternal  integrity 
of  college  friendships. 


BUT  the  very  next  day,  Fortune  seemed  to  relent, 
ever  so  slightly. 
Trudging  hopelessly  but  methodically  through  the 
snow,  from  door  to  door— stifling  the  deep  hurt  of  the  night 
before— Lee  at  length  rang  the  door-bell  of  Number  228 
Wrisley  street,  occupied  by  Adrian  Soomer. 

Mrs.  Soomer,  a  middle-aged  Dutch  Hausfrau,  with  hair 
plastered  back  into  a  little  knot,  betrayed  sufficient  interest 
to  say  that  he  might  return  some  evening  that  week  to 
confer  with  her  "man." 

Friday  night,  therefore,  Lee  called  again  at  the  Soomer 
abode.  Adrian  Soomer  was  a  saloon-keeper,  about  forty- 
five  years  old.  His  face  was  broad,  flat  and  pock-marked; 
his  moustache  formidable;  his  hair  bristly;  the  back  of  his 
head  stubbornly  straight. 

For  all  that,  he  suffered  Lee  to  explain  his  mission  to 
the  end. 

"What  I'd  like  to  do  would  be  to  take  you  out  to 
'Eastwood'  next  Sunday,"  said  Lee  mechanically. 

Soomer  pulled  on  his  cigar  stub.  "Veil— maybe  ve  go— 
huh,  mamma?"  he  interrogated  his  wife. 

"Sure,"  she  assented. 

Lee  began  to  brighten.  They  were  the  best  prospects 
he  had  come  across  in  many  a  day.  He  made  an  appoint- 
ment for  ten  o'clock  the  next  Sunday  morning,  then  hurried 
away  before  they  could  change  their  minds.  He  told 
Eberenz  nothing  about  the  Soomers.  He  had  turned  in  too 
many  false  alarms  already. 

Sunday  morning  was  bitterly  cold  and  Soomer  demurred 

7i 


(72  THE  GROPER 

strongly  to  forsaking  the  glow  of  his  sitting-room  coal-stove. 
It  was  like  pulling  teeth  to  get  the  pair  started. 

Little  wonder  Lee  was  excited  when  they  finally  arrived 
at  the  desolate  reaches  of  "Eastwood."  In  all  his  five- 
months  as  a  real  estate  salesman,  he  had  not  succeeded  in 
taking  a  single  prospect  out  to  the  subdivisions  until  to-day. 

Mr.  and  Mrs.  Soomer  looked  over  the  subdivision  phleg- 
matically  and  without  enthusiasm.  Soomer  walked  back  and 
forth  along  the  sidewalk  to  keep  from  freezing.  He  turned 
in  his  toes  as  he  walked;  his  gloveless  hands  he  plunged 
into  his  side  pockets. 

"Now's  the  time  to  buy,"  Lee  extemporised.  "In  another 
month  everybody'll  be  wanting  lots,  and  you  won't  be  able 
to  have  such  a  choice.    Besides,  the  price  may  go  up." 

The  Soomers  wouldn't  commit  themselves  Sunday,  but 
Monday  night  he  was  after  them  again,  like  a  terrier  after 
a  rat.  At  the  outset,  the  saloon-keeper's  disposition  was 
unfavorable.  It  seemed  to  Lee  he  talked  to  Soomer  at 
least  six  hours  that  night.  For  the  first  time,  he  felt  within 
himself  a  real  ingenuity  in  argument,  a  real  persuasiveness. 
There  was  something  almost  frenzied  in  his  determined 
earnestness. 

"Veil,  I  tell  you,"  yielded  Soomer  at  eleven  o'clock.  "I 
gif  you  fife  dollars  to-night  as  a  deposit  to  holdt  lot  number 
fifty-seex."  He  indicated  the  lot  in  question  with  a  stubby, 
unmanicured  index  finger. 

Outwardly  dignified,  Lee  wrote  out  a  receipt  for  the 
money.  "This  will  give  you  an  option  for  forty-eight 
hours,"  he  explained.  "Within  that  time,  you  must  pay 
the  balance  of  ten  per  cent,  of  the  price  of  the  lot,  five 
hundred  and  fifty  dollars,  and  after  that,  five  dollars  and 
fifty  cents  or  more  each  month." 

He  folded  the  worn  five-dollar  bill  and  put  it  in  his 
vest  pocket;  then  took  his  leave.  Outside  in  the  cold  Feb- 
ruary night,  his  ecstasy  broke  all  bounds.    He  leaped  and 


THE  GROPER  73 

ran;  he  even  shouted;  he  wanted  to  climb  the  walls  of  the 
buildings  he  passed. 

The  unutterable  sweetness  of  Success!  After  the  long 
procession  of  numb,  despairing  days,  after  the  intolerable 
nightmare  of  failure,  his  victory  had  descended  upon  him 
with  incredible  swiftness.  Every  fibre  of  his  being  tingled 
with  transcendent  happiness.  All  his  doubts  about  the  essen- 
tial Rightness  of  Things  dissolved.  It  was  a  good  world 
at  that.  It  paid  to  be  honest,  industrious,  ambitious. 
Shorty  Kirschman  was  wrong:  you  didn't  have  to  hoodwink 
people  in  order  to  sell  them  lots.  He  had  won — he  was 
going  to  be  a  splendid  success  after  all. 

And  Vera!  Now  he  could  go  back  to  Chatham  in  tri- 
umph. Dear,  faithful  Vera!  How  hard  it  had  been  for 
them  to  be  separated — but  how  wonderful  to  feel  her  in  his 
arms  once  more.  Vera  and  he  wouldn't. be  sorry  in  later 
years  that  they  had  gone  through  this  ordeal.  It  had  been 
a  test. 

He  wrote  her  a  hasty  note  that  night,  full  of  his  success. 
"I'll  get  to  Chatham  Saturday  afternoon,"  he  promised.  "I 
don't  see  how  I've  been  able  to  live  so  long  without  seeing 
you."  His  letter  would  reach  her  Wednesday  morning. 
He  visualised  her  sudden,  radiant  happiness. 

Bob  Hamilton,  too,  had  to  be  told  something  of  the 
astounding  news— not  in  great  detail,  for  he  had  vaguely 
supposed  that  Lee  was  selling  lots  right  along. 

"That's  great,  Lee,"  he  said.  He  himself  was  discouraged, 
as  usual.  "I  don't  see  why  I  can't  be  a  success  too.  Lord 
knows  I  try  hard  enough.  Guess  I  simply  haven't  it  in  me." 
He  wagged  his  large  head  dolefully  from  side  to  side;  his 
eyes  were  troubled  behind  his  thick-lensed  spectacles;  his 
sensitive  lower  lip  trembled. 

Next  morning  Lee  jubilantly  reported  his  sale  to  Eberenz, 
and  turned  over  the  deposit  money. 

The  roguish  old  superintendent  fairly  beamed.   "I  knowed 


74  THE  GROPER 

you  had  it  in  you,  my  boy ! "  he  acclaimed,  as  he  clapped  Lee 
boisterously  on  the  back.  With  impressive  ostentation,  he 
dipped  a  small  brush  in  red  ink  and  marked  Lot  No.  56  off 
the  big  wall-map  of  "Eastwood."  "Now  you're  started. 
The  first  deal's  always  the  hardest  one.  I  bet  you  sell  six 
more  lots  in  the  next  month!" 

Six  more!  His  commission  on  the  Soomer  deal  would  be 
$27.50;  on  six  lots  more,  $165.00.  Why,  at  that  pace,  he 
could  marry  Vera  right  away. 

It  was  all  too  good  to  be  true!  What  a  difference  it 
made  in  his  day's  work!  He  went  from  house  to  house 
with  real  courage,  with  new  persuasiveness.  There  was  no 
stopping  him  now;  by  Tuesday  night,  he  had  secured  two 
more  good  prospects. 

Wednesday  morning,  as  he  walked  downtown,  he  re- 
flected that  Vera  would  just  be  receiving  his  letter.  All  at 
once  he  remembered  with  a  guilty  feeling  that  he  had  neg- 
lected to  write  his  mother.  He  decided  that  he  would  send 
her  a  special  delivery  letter  at  once. 

The  sun  shone  down  from  a  sky  of  deep,  brilliant  azure. 
The  air  bore  the  first  hint  of  warmth,  the  first  tremulous 
promise  of  spring.  On  all  sides  people  were  hurrying  down 
to  work.  To-day  he  saw  many  faces  that  seemed  optimistic, 
alert,  purposeful.  He  revelled  in  the  increasing  roar  of  the 
city,  rising  and  falling  in  pulsating  waves;  the  noises  of 
grating,  creaking  trolley-cars,  of  hoofbeats  on  the  hard 
asphalt,  of  squawking  motor  horns;  more  than  all  this — 
filling  in  the  interstices  of  these  definable  noises — a  vast 
inchoate  background  of  sound,  proceeding  from  the  mere 
proximity  of  thousands  of  people,  elemental,  diapasonic,  in- 
distinguishable^— the  overtones  of  the  city. 

At  the  office,  Lee  dashed  off  a  note  to  his  mother.  As 
he  was  leaving,  Eberenz  called  him  back. 

"By  the  way,  Hillquit,"  he  said,  "I  forgot  to  tell  you. 
Soomer  was  in  yesterday  afternoon.    He  got  cold  feet  on 


THE  GROPER  75 

that  deal,  and  we  finally  had  t'  give  him  his  five  dollars 
back." 

Lee  took  hold  of  the  ledge  of  the  superintendent's  desk, 
and  stared  blankly.    " What's  that?" 

Eberenz  repeated  the  news,  quite  as  if  it  were  the  most 
ordinary  occurrence  in  the  world. 

Lee  experienced  an  utter  sickness  of  heart;  it  seemed  for 
a  moment  as  if  the  world  were  tumbling  down;  but  he 
strove  to  conceal  his  bitter  disappointment  from  the  super- 
intendent. 

"Too  bad,"  quoth  Eberenz  lightly,  "but  you're  started, 
anyway.    The  next  one'll  come  easier." 

"I'll  go  and  see  Soomer,"  volunteered  Lee.  "Perhaps  I 
can  persuade  him  to  change  his  mind." 

The  superintendent  removed  his  impressive  eye-glasses 
and  rubbed  the  irritated  indentations  they  left  on  the  sides 
of  his  nose.  "Don't  believe  I'd  bother  with  him.  I  spent 
an  hour  workin'  on  him,  an'  I  couldn't  budge  him.  You 
know  how  stubborn  a  Dutchman  is."  He  tapped  his  desk 
meditatively.  "Tell  you  what:  Wrisley  street  ain't  much 
good,  an'  now  you've  showed  you  got  the  stuff,  I'm  goin'  t' 
give  you  a  better  territory."  He  reached  for  a  pile  of 
cards.    "Here's  McAfee  street— take  a  whirl  at  that." 

Slowly  Lee  tore  up  the  letter  to  his  mother.  He  won- 
dered inconsequentially  how  he  had  best  break  the  news  to 
Vera.  Fight  as  he  would,  the  fine  bold  flavor  of  his  courage 
ran  itself  out  drop  by  drop.  Success  had  escaped  him  after 
all.  He  must  begin  the  slow,  uninspired  grind  all  over 
again. 

He  forced  himself  out  to  McAfee  street.  For  the  life 
of  him,  he  couldn't  see  why  Eberenz  considered  it  superior 
territory.    He  covered  two  blocks  of  it  in  apathetic  fashion. 

On  the  next  corner  appeared  a  saloon  and  he  glanced 
inadvertently  at  the  sign  that  hung  over  the  doorway-- 
then  stopped  short.  The  sign  read:  "Adrian  Soomer,  Cafe." 


76  THE  GROPER 

He  opened  the  door  and  walked  in.  There  could  be  no 
harm,  he  decided,  in  talking  to  Soomer,  and  there  was  a 
slight  chance  of  inducing  him  to  reconsider. 

The  proprietor,  in  shirt  sleeves  and  apron,  was  busily 
serving  three  patrons.  He  nodded  to  Lee  and  presently 
gave  him  audience. 

The  real  estate  salesman  bought  a  round  of  beer  for 
Soomer  and  himself. 

"I  tell  you,  Mr.  Soomer,"  he  began  earnestly,  "I  think 
you're  making  a  big  mistake  in  giving  up  that  lot." 

The  saloon-keeper  surveyed  him  with  apparent  bewilder- 
ment. 

"But — but  I  haf  not  give  oop  dat  lot,"  he  asserted. 

Lee,  in  turn,  stared. 

"I  go  down  to  your  office  yesterday — yes,"  affirmed 
Soomer.    "I  see  Mr. — Mr. " 

"Mr.  Eberenz?" 

"Ja,  I  tell  him  I  don't  want  dat  lot,  und  he  gif  me  my 
money  back." 

"Yes — that's  what  he  told  me,"  Lee  interpolated. 

"Veil,  when  I  get  half  way  to  door,  he  call  me  back,  and 
talk  to  me  some  more,  und  finally  he  persuade  me  to  take 
dat  lot.  I  gif  him  dat  fife  dollars  back,  und  feefty  dollars 
more  to  make  first  payment.  I  sign  contract."  He  exhibited 
a  land  contract  covering  Lot  56,  "Eastwood  Subdivision." 

"Why,  Eberenz  didn't  tell  me  that!"  Lee  ejaculated  in 
high  excitement.    "He  just  said  you'd  given  up  the  lot." 

Soomer  shook  his  close-cropped,  bristly  head  perplexedly. 
"I  buy  dat  lot."  3, 

Lee  caught  the  first  street-car  back  to  the  office.  There 
must  be  some  mistake,  he  decided.  His  spirits  began 
another  rapid  ascent.  He  leaped  up  the  stairs  and  broke 
in  on  Eberenz. 

"See  here!"  he  exclaimed.  "I  just  saw  Soomer  and  he 
cays  he  bought  that  lot  after  all." 


THE  GROPER  77 

A  flicker  of  indecision  came  and  went  on  the  superin- 
tendent's face. 

"Well,  that's  true,  all  right,"  he  admitted. 

"But  you  didn't  tell  me  anything  about  that " 

Eberenz  swung  around  sharply.  "I  told  you  Soomer  gave 
up  the  lot,  and  he  did.  That  was  all  that  concerned  you. 
Your  part  of  the  transaction  was  over.  Your  deal  had 
fallen  through.  Then  I  stepped  in,  on  my  own  hook,  and 
sold  him.    That's  my  deal — see?" 

Lee  was  non-plussed  for  a  moment.  "No,  I  don't  see. 
Soomer  was  my  customer.  You  were  supposed  to  help  me 
with  him.  That's  your  job."  By  now,  he  was  aroused.  He 
extended  a  determined  forefinger  toward  the  superintendent. 

Eberenz  looked  disappointed.  "Oh,  well,  if  you're  goin'  to 
be  unreasonable  about  it,  I  won't  waste  no  breath  on  you. 
It's  my  commission  and  I'm  goin'  t'  keep  it." 

Lee's  forefinger  merged  into  a  fist — held  close  to  the 
impressive  eye-glasses.  "We'll  see  about  that!"  was  all 
he  could  say.  His  egregious  wrath  stifled  him,  made  him 
ineffective. 

"Go  as  far  as  you  like,"  invited  Eberenz  imperturbably. 

Lee  spied  O'Neill,  the  sales  manager,  sitting  alone  in  his 
enclosure  near  the  door.    He  marched  indignantly  forward. 

"Mr.  O'Neill!"  he  exploded.  "I  just  made  a  sale,  and 
now  Eberenz  is  trying  to  steal  my  commission." 

The  sales  manager's  cold,  peering  eyes  took  stock  of  his 
visitor's  angry  nostrils  and  quivering  mouth. 

"That's  a  serious  charge,"  he  said  with  judicial  impress- 
iveness;  then  called:  "Mr.  Eberenz." 

The  conference  that  ensued  was  tantalizing.  O'Neill  led 
the  two  disputants  into  the  private  office  of  Mr.  Hauxhurst, 
the  eloquent  general  manager;  adjured  them  to  speak  quiet- 
ly and  not  to  interrupt  one  another;  then  told  Lee  to  tell 
his  side  of  the  affair. 

Lee's  anger  still  crippled  his  powers  of  speech,  whereas 


78  THE  GROPER 

Eberenz  had  all  the  advantage  of  the  man  who  never  loses 
his  temper.    His  story  was  effective,  plausible. 

O'Neill  attended  gravely.  He  maintained  an  air  of  con- 
scientious impartiality. 

"What  do  you  think,  Mr.  Hauxhurst?"  he  asked. 

The  general  manager  had  been  listening  to  the  stories 
with  obvious  boredom.  He  turned  to  Lee.  "You  registered 
Soomer  in  the  book  of  prospects?" 

Lee  experienced  once  more  the  empty,  caved-in  feeling 
that  was  becoming  so  familiar  to  him  these  days. 

"Why,  no,"  he  said.  "No  one  uses  that  book  to  any 
extent,  as  far  as " 

"That  don't  cut  any  ice,"  Hauxhurst  decided  curtly. 
"You  knew  there  was  such  a  book,  and  you  knew  what 
it  was  there  for.    Eberenz  gets  the  commission." 

O'Neill  and  Eberenz  stood  up  and  prepared  to  leave  the 
office.  Lee  also  arose,  more  slowly.  He  was  conscious  of 
a  tingling,  prickly  sensation  throughout  his  body,  as  if  he 
had  hold  of  a  weak  electric  battery. 

Suddenly  all  his  grievous  disappointment  and  indignation 
coagulated  somewhere  in  his  brain,  and  he  found  his  speech. 

"Why,  that's  a  damned  outrage!"  he  blurted.  "Here  I've 
worked  for  you  all  winter  and  almost  frozen  to  death,  and 
now  you  steal  my  first  commission  from  me.  What's  more— 
you  steal  commissions  right  along — every  time  you  get  a 
chance.  You  get  us  suckers  to  slave  for  you,  you  keep 
us  pumped  full  of  hot  air,  then  when  we  do  make  good, 
you  rob  us!" 

The  effect  of  this  tirade  was  three-fold:  Eberenz  looked 
sullen;  O'Neill's  amphibious  eyes  opened  wider  than  ever 
in  positive  alarm;  but  Hauxhurst  turned  pale  with  virulence. 

The  sales  manager's  whole  notion  was  to  hush  up  the 
noisy  young  salesman.  "If  you  make  a  row,  we'll  call  the 
police,"  he  warned.  "Perhaps  we  can  split  the  commission 
some  way " 


THE  GROPER  79 

"Split  nothing! "  Hauxhurst  took  a  step  toward  Lee.  "You 
shut  your  mouth,  and  get  out  of  here!" 

Lee  did  not  give  way.  Instead,  he  was  wondering  whether 
the  conventionalities  of  such  a  situation  demanded  that  he 
punch  some  one's  face.  He  wanted  above  all  to  observe 
"good  form" — to  do  what  the  code  of  masculine  honor  de- 
manded. 

But  he  contented  himself  with  words:  "You're  a  bunch 
of  crooks!"  he  shot  out.  "And  I'll  get  back  at  you  for  this 
if  it  takes  ten  years  to  do  it!" 

"Get  out!"  repeated  Hauxhurst,  but  not  quite  so  con- 
vincingly. 

Lee  gave  his  three  antagonists  a  final  defiant  look  and 
retreated  from  the  room  in  good  order.  He  ignored  the 
curious  stares  of  the  few  salesmen  in  the  outer  enclosure, 
picked  up  his  hat  and  overcoat,  and  left  the  Security  Realty 
Company's  office  forever. 

He  felt  the  elation  of  having  conducted  himself  with 
esprit,  of  having  behaved  splendidly— "as  a  gentleman 
should."  But  presently  the  thrill  of  conflict  seeped  away, 
and  in  its  place  grew  the  despondent  awareness  that  he 
was  back  just  where  he  had  been  six  months  ago— without 
work,  without  definite  plans. 

His  despondent  progress  home  terminated  in  a  joyful 
rebound  when  he  discovered  a  letter  from  Vera.  He  glanced 
at  the  post-mark.  The  letter  had  been  mailed  Tuesday 
morning— before  she  could  have  received  his  letter  he  re- 
flected. In  his  eagerness  he  hardly  noticed  the  weekly  copy 
of  the  "Chatham  Republican,"  addressed  to  him  in  nis 
mother's  handwriting.  He  sat  down  in  the  deserted  room, 
and   surrendered  himself  to  the  delight  of  Veras  mes- 

^  "My  dear  Lee,"  she  began.    That  sounded  oddly  formal 
His  eyes  skimmed  down  the  page.    His  right  hand,  which 


8o  THE  GROPER 

was  reflexively  brushing  his  hair  back  from  his  forehead, 
stopped  still. 

"I  hardly  know  how  to  write  this  letter.  I  hate  to  hurt 
your  feelings.  But  I  think  you  ought  to  know  the  truth. 
I  don't  love  you.  I  think  I  must  have  been  mistaken  about 
it  from  the  beginning. 

"That's  all.^  Please  don't  write  me  for  any  details,  because 
there  really  isn't  any  use. 

"Yours  sincerely, 

"Vera  Wakefield." 

Presently  he  remembered  to  bring  his  right  hand  down 
from  his  forehead. 

A  throng  of  recollections  rushed  into  his  mind:  Vera  on 
Mount  Phillis,  that  last  Sunday  afternoon;  Vera's  upturned 
face,  infinitely  tender  in  the  darkness  of  innumerable  sum- 
mer nights;  Vera's  swimming  eyes;  Vera's  smile  with  its 
shadowy  suspicion  of  a  dimple;  Vera  of  a  thousand  appeal- 
ing, heart-rending  memories. 

Automatically,  he  opened  the  "Chatham  Republican."  On 
the  first  page,  his  mother  had  blue-pencilled  the  following 
item: 

"Mr.  and  Mrs.  Roscoe  Wakefield  announced  the  engage- 
ment of  their  lovely  daughter,  Vera,  to  Milo  Higginson,  of 
Record,  at  a  five-course  supper  last  Saturday  evening,  given 
by  Mrs.  Wakefield  to  sixteen  girl  friends  of  her  daughter." 

There  followed  a  vivid  description  of  the  ingenious  method 
utilized  to  acquaint  the  guests  with  the  great  secret.  Lee 
read  on  through  the  details  of  the  "lavish  refreshments" 
which  featured  the  party. 

"Miss  Vera  is  popular,  highly  accomplished  and  beautiful, 
as  a  number  of  jilted  Chatham  swains  will  testify.  More 
than  once,  Dame  Rumor  has  whispered  of  the  entanglement 
of  her  affections,  but  nothing  ever  come  of  it.  Milo  Higgin- 
son is  the  son  of  Jay  Higginson,  the  well-known  Record 
banker,  and  is  a  promising  and  rising  young  business  man 


THE  GROPER  61 

on  his  own  hook.    The  happy  couple  will  be  married  early 
in  April  and  will  reside  in  Record.    What  is  Chatham's  loss 
is  Record's  gain ! 
"Congratulations,     Milo!"  ****** 

"Al.   Butler  has  gone  back  to  work  at  the  cheese  fac- 
tory  " 

Lee  dropped  the  paper  to  the  floor  and  covered  his  eyes 
with  his  hands.  Milo  Higginson's  inept,  flabby  face  and 
gross,  inert  body  rose  in  his  memory.  That  was  the  per- 
plexing climax  to  his  agony.  It  was  unbearable  enough  that 
Vera  should  stop  loving  him;  but  it  was  the  thought  of 
Milo  Higginson's  possessing  her  that  nearly  drove  him  in- 
sane. That  lout,  Vera's  husband?  Why,  she  couldn't  love 
him — that  was  preposterous.  She  had  made  fun  of  him 
dozens  of  times.  The  obvious  explanation  slowly  pieced 
itself  together:  Milo's  money  and  Mrs.  Wakefield's  ambi- 
tion had  combined  to  do  the  trick.  But  Vera  was  a  grown- 
up woman.  She  wasn't  being  forced  into  any  marriage  she 
didn't  want.  Besides,  she  no  longer  loved  Lee.  He  guessed 
that  she  too  had  turned  covetous  eyes  on  his  rival's  pros- 
perity. 

Something  of  the  blind,  brutal  power  of  money— the  help- 
lessness of  poverty — seared  itself  into  Lee's  soul  during  those 
black  moments. 

He  turned  his  head  wearily,  and  stared  unseeingly  out  of 
the  window  at  the  brick  wall  next  door.  What  was  wrong, 
he  wondered.  What  sort  of  a  world  was  it,  anyway?  He 
couldn't  see  the  way  clearly  at  all. 


XI 

THE  first  fortnight  of  March,  1908,  brought  little 
promise  of  spring.  To  Lee  Hillquit,  the  weather 
seemed  each  day  more  piercingly  cold,  more  malig- 
nantly inclement.  There  was  a  positive  ferocity  in  the  way 
the  wind  bit  through  his  cravanette,  as  he  pursued  his 
mechanical  course  about  the  streets,  vaguely  looking  for 
work. 

Nothing  paralyses  the  energies  so  irrevocably  as  uncer- 
tainty. Lee's  intentions  were  as  pathetically  indefinite  as 
they  had  been  six  months  before.  He  had  made  no  friends 
who  could  help  him.  He  had  acquired  no  expertness  in 
the  real  estate  business. 

He  began  where  he  had  left  off:  reading  "want  ads"  in 
the  comfortable  stuffiness  of  the  public  library.  Many 
vacancies  clamored  for  the  skilled  workman.  A  few  em- 
ployers wanted  sales  managers,  auditors,  and  the  like,  but 
always  with  the  disheartening  finale:  "None  but  experienced 
men  need  apply."  He  noted  the  same  old  demand  for  men 
to  become  insurance  solicitors,  sales  agents  for  "novelties," 
etc.;  and  there,  in  precisely  the  same  old  place,  lay  in 
wait  the  strenuous-sounding,  mysteriously  exhilarating  ad- 
vertisement of  the  Security  Realty  Company.  "Only  hustler 
need  apply.  Splendid  opening  for  an  ambitious,  industrious 
man."  It  was  a  shrewdly  framed  appeal.  Lee  felt  all  over 
again  his  first  quickened  thrill. 

At  times  he  broke  away  from  the  enervating  warmth  of 
the  library  and  wandered  aimlessly  about  the  downtown 
streets,  as  if  he  expected  Opportunity,  in  some  miraculous 
way,  to  swoop  down  upon  him  from  the  skies.    And  with 

82 


THE  GROPER  83 

every  day  he  was  becoming  moodier,  more  resentful  toward 
life,  more  distrustful  of  people. 

Early  one  sombre  afternoon,  he  was  picking  his  way 
through  the  slush  on  Washington  boulevard  when  he  heard 
some  one  shout  his  name. 

He  turned  around  in  surprise.  A  small  runabout  wheezed 
up  to  the  curb,  and  a  young  man  with  a  trim  black  mous- 
tache and  a  dazzling  grin  peered  out  from  the  side  curtains. 

"Hello  there,  Lee!"  he  greeted  warmly,  and  held  out  a 
wet  gauntlet. 

Lee  couldn't  help  a  smiling  response.  "Why,  hello!"  he 
returned.  He  racked  his  memory  for  identification  of  the 
cheerful  youth. 

"Which  way  you  going?" 

Lee  parried  the  question.    "I'm  just  out  for  exercise." 

"Well,  come  on  in— I'll  give  you  a  spin." 

Lee  wriggled  in  under  the  side  curtains,  and  the  runabout 
started  up  with  considerable  vibration  and  a  vociferous 
coughing;  then  abruptly  stopped. 

"Stalled!"  the  grinning  driver  announced— without  seem- 
ing to  be  in  the  least  dampened  by  the  circumstance.  Nimbly 
he  clambered  out,  spun  the  motor,  and  hurried  back  into 
the  car.    This  time,  they  succeeded  in  getting  under  way. 

Lee  had  never  been  in  an  automobile  before;  the  experi- 
ence was  a  fascinating  novelty. 

"Maybe  you  don't  remember  me,"  suddenly  began  his 
companion.  "My  name's  James— Ellwood  James.  You 
used  to  know  me  at  the  University  when  we  were  freshmen. 
I  was  a  medic,  and  I  finished  my  course  here  in  Detroit. 
Dr.  James— don't  that  sound  funny?" 

At  that  he  threw  back  his  head  and  laughed— an  extra- 
ordinary, falsetto,  frantic  sort  of  laugh.  Lee  stared:  it  was 
the  first  real  laugh  he  had  heard  in  Detroit.  He  remembered 
Ellwood  now.  They  had  gone  to  the  same  boarding  house. 
In  those  days,  Ellwood  had  had  the  same  white  teeth,  the 


84  THE  GROPER 

same  "loud"  cravats,  the  same  suggestion  of  nervous  energy 
— and  most  noticeable  of  all,  the  same  odd  eyebrows  coming 
together  over  his  nose  in  a  little  tuft  that  somehow  lent 
him  the  aspect  of  a  unicorn.    The  moustache  alone  was  new. 

He  told  Lee  that  he  had  been  practising  medicine  foi 
nine  months  and  was  associated  with  the  city's  most  eminent 
surgeon.  In  addition,  he  was  doing  some  sort  of  post- 
graduate work  at  one  of  the  hospitals. 

"You  must  have  quite  a  practice  already,"  Lee  ventured, 
"to  afford  an  automobile." 

This  seemed  to  tickle  Ellwood's  sensibilities  enormously. 
"Hah — hah — hah!"  exploded  another  of  his  strangulated 
laughs.  "Why,  my  practice  doesn't  pay  for  my  cravats — 
iet  alone  gasoline.  My  old  man  bought  me  this  when  I 
graduated.  He  was  awful  proud  of  his  little  son,  awful 
proud.    I  call  her  Lizzie,  and  she's  some  car!" 

After  his  painful  weeks  of  depressing  struggle,  Lee  found 
Ellwood's  gaiety  irresistibly  appealing. 

"But  say!"  recollected  Ellwood.  "What  are  you  doing  in 
Detroit?  And  what's  happened  to  you?  You  look  awful 
seedy." 

Lee  pleaded  hard  work,  but  remained  vague  as  to  details. 
He  was  conscious,  however,  that  his  companion  was  genuine- 
ly interested  in  him.  There  was  an  indescribable  warmth 
about  Ellwood's  attitude,  a  certain  sympathy  that  was  none 
the  less  grateful  because  it  refused  to  be  doleful. 

He  finally  deposited  his  passenger  at  a  downtown  cross- 
ing.   "I'll  look  you  up  sometime  soon,"  he  promised. 

Lee  remembered  Fred  Badger's  promises,  and  was  skep- 
tical. 

But  Ellwood  smoothed  his  close-cut  moustache  thought- 
fully. 

"What  are  you  doing  to-night?"  he  inquired. 

"Not  a  thing,"  admitted  Lee. 

"Well,  s'pose  I  pick  you  up  about  eight,"  suggested  the 


THE  GROPER  85 

youthful  physician.  "Maybe  we  can  stir  up  some  excite- 
ment." 

Ellwood  and  his  runabout  materialised  promptly  at  the 
stipulated  hour. 

"I  tried  to  frame  up  a  date  with  a  couple  of  girls,"  he 
set  forth,  "but  there  was  nothing  doing." 

Lee  was  silent.  After  his  experience  with  Vera,  he  was 
not  anxious  to  meet  any  new  girls.  He  fancied  a  certain 
dramatic  satisfaction  in  becoming  a  woman-hater. 

Meanwhile,  under  Ellwood's  ministrations,  "Lizzie" 
throbbed  her  way  swiftly  down  Woodward  avenue. 

"I  tell  you,"  her  owner  suggested.  "We  might  go  to  a 
burlesque  show.  They're  awful  frosts,  but  sort  of  fun  at 
that." 

Ellwood  bought  the  tickets,  and  they  found  themselves  in 
the  tenth  row  of  the  theatre,  listening  to  a  "Grand  Over- 
ture" by  the  brassy  little  orchestra.  Nearly  every  seat  was 
occupied.  Already  the  air  was  heavily  laden  with  the  smoke 
from  hundreds  of  cigars  and  cigarets. 

"Big  audience,"  commented  Lee. 

"Same  every  night,"  said  his  host.  "Almost  as  many 
here  every  afternoon." 

Lee  glanced  curiously  at  the  faces  about  him.  Every 
type  of  physiognomy  had  its  representation.  There  were  a 
great  many  workmen,  he  thought. 

"I  don't  even  know  the  name  of  the  show,"  admitted 
Ellwood,  fingering  his  programme.  "  'Dave  Rose's  Paris 
Queens,' "  he  read. 

Lee's  emotions  were  divided  between  pleasurable  excite- 
ment and  a  conviction  that  he  was  doing  something  dis- 
reputable. He  was  relieved  when  the  lights  went  down  and 
the  curtain  rose  on  the  opening  chorus. 

The  show  proved  to  be  decidedly  cheap  entertainment. 
Those  who  had  expected  to  behold  something  starthngly 
wicked  must  have  been  grievously  disappointed.    There  was 


86  THE  GROPER 

the  same  old  pair  of  Jewish  comedians — the  sine  qua  non 
of  burlesque;  the  same  peppery,  polemic  Irishman;  the  same 
old  slap-stick.  Even  to  a  novice  like  Lee,  the  jokes  seemed 
flat;  he  was  astonished  to  note  the  hilarious  mirth  of  the 
audience. 

There  were  just  two  "acts"  that  promised  anything  sensa- 
tional. The  first  was  "La  Zara,  the  Oriental  Dancer."  But 
La  Zara  proved  fat  and  clumsy — anything  but  seductive. 
The  second  act  was  billed  as  "Living  Statuary,  by  Members 
of  the  Chorus."  The  curtains  parted  on  some  twelve  girls, 
attired  in  flesh-colored  tights,  each  holding  some  "artistic" 
pose  till  the  folds  of  the  curtain  fell  again.  There  were  some 
six  scenes.  Meanwhile  the  Jew  comedians  stood  in  the 
wings  and  "made  cracks"  about  the  girls. 

It  was  the  show's  nearest  approach  to  alluring  wickedness. 
The  audience  sat  absolutely  quiet.  Each  man  seemed 
abashed,  almost  timid,  at  the  spectacle.  Even  the  come- 
dians' crass  jokes  brought  no  response. 

Lee  tried  to  revel  in  the  scene,  but  he  soon  found  himself 
feeling  sorry  for  the  girls.  They  looked  uncomfortable.  One, 
especially,  seemed  to  find  no  pleasure  in  her  work.  She  was 
a  large  girl  with  a  nice  expression;  her  place  was  at  the* 
rear  in  the  centre.  She  seemed  a  little  ungainly  in  her 
postures,  Lee  remarked. 

At  last  the  performance  dragged  its  banal  way  to  a 
conclusion. 

"We  might  buy  ourselves  some  chop  suey,"  suggested 
Ellwood,  as  they  paused  irresolutely  outside  the  theatre. 
Forthwith,  he  led  the  way  up  a  narrow  flight  of  stairs  to 
Yen  Lo's  "Chinese  Gardens." 

A  few  minutes  afterward,  Lee  saw  two  girls  come  up  the 
stairway  and  sit  down  at  a  nearby  table. 

"By  George!"  he  suddenly  recognised.  "There  are  two 
chorus  girls  from  the  show."  One  of  them,  he  felt  sure, 
was  the  nice-looking  tall  girl. 


THE  GROPER  87 

Ellwood  cast  an  expert  eye  over  the  two  "Paris  Queens." 
"Shall  we  pick  'em  up?"  he  asked. 

Lee's  eyes  opened  wide.    "You  don't  know  them,  do  you?" 

"Know  them?"  Ellwood  almost  choked.  "Don't  have 
to  know  them.    This  isn't  Jefferson  avenue.    Watch  me." 

He  walked  over  to  the  table,  and  without  the  slightest 
hesitation  began  talking  to  the  two  girls  quite  as  if  he  had 
always  known  them.  In  a  moment  he  motioned  to  Lee  to 
join  him. 

"This  is  Miss  Diamond,"  he  introduced,  indicating  a 
small,  light-haired  girl.  "And  Miss  Kohler."  He  nodded 
in  the  direction  of  the  tall  girl. 

With  no  little  uneasiness,  Lee  sat  down.  He  wondered 
how  one  conducted  one's  self  with  women  of  this  type.  But 
under  Ellwood's  lead,  the  conversation  proceeded  with  amaz- 
ing ease.  Lee  found  opportunity  to  check  up  his  first  im- 
pressions of  Miss  Bernice  Kohler.  She  really  was  nice- 
looking.  Her  hazel  eyes  were  fine;  the  delicious  quality  of 
her  voice  made  him  forget  her  outrageous  grammar.  In  her 
neat  blue  tailored  suit,  she  revealed  none  of  her  stage 
awkwardness.  Her  hands  were  too  large,  admittedly;  but 
even  this  defect  somehow  suggested  honesty. 

Ellwood  soon  indicated  a  preference  for  Miss  June  Dia- 
mond's piquant  blondness,  and  Lee  was  free  to  investigate 
this  startling  social  phenomenon  in  the  shape  of  an  appar- 
ently "nice"  burlesque  girl.  To  his  surprise,  she  actually 
liked  her  life.  She  professed  no  especial  repugnance  even 
toward  the  "Living  Statuary"  act. 

"It's  just  a  part  of  the  business,"  she  explained.  "It 
don't  mean  nothing  to  me." 

She  had  been  on  the  burlesque  circuit  for  two  years,  she 
told  him,  and  showed  him  a  telegram. 

"See  this,"  she  said,  and  Lee  read  a  meaningless  message 
from  New  York  City.  "That  means  I'll  be  on  Broadway 
next  season." 


88  THE  GROPER 

She  was  very  curious  to  know  what  Lee  thought  of  the 
"Paris  Queens,"  and  asked  him  if  he  intended  to  see  the 
performance  on  Friday  night. 

"That's  Chorus  Girl  Night,"  she  set  forth.  "Each  one 
of  us  girls  does  some  stunt,  and  the  one  the  audience  likes 
best  wins  a  prize  of  ten  dollars.  I  won  it  last  week  in 
Cleveland." 

Lee  was  by  now  completely  reassured.  "That's  fine! 
We'll  try  to  be  there." 

It  was  after  midnight  when  the  four  of  them  left  the 
"Chinese  Gardens." 

Ellwood  took  Lee  aside.  "My  'bus  only  holds  two,"  he 
explained.  "Would  you  mind  if  Fluffy-fluff  and  I  ditched 
you  two  here?" 

"Not  a  bit,"  said  Lee;  and  presently,  he  found  himself 
alone  with  Bernice. 

"Where  do  you  live?"  he  asked  her.  She  gave  him  the 
name  of  a  cheap  downtown  hotel,  and  they  started  walking. 

Bernice  seemed  troubled.  "I'm  awfully  worried  about 
June,"  she  suddenly  announced.  "I  tried  to  keep  her  from 
going  off  alone  with  your  friend." 

"Oh,  she's  perfectly  safe  with  Ellwood,"  Lee  hastened  to 
say.    He  couldn't  help  patting  her  arm  a  little. 

But  Bernice  remained  skeptical.  "I  know  men,"  she  as- 
serted with  great  conviction.    ''There  ain't  many  I'd  trust." 

They  reached  her  hotel.  "Well,  good-bye,"  she  said,  and 
smiled  once  more.    "I'm  awful  glad  I  met  you." 

"But  won't  I  see  you  Friday  after  the  show?" 

She  looked  wistful.  "If  you  really  want  to.  You  can 
wait  for  me  in  the  alley  outside  the  stage  door." 

The  next  night,  Ellwood  reappeared  at  Lee's  rooms.  "Say, 
you  aren't  sore,  are  you?"  he  asked.  "I  didn't  mean  to 
invite  you  out  to  a  party  and  then  let  you  walk  home 
alone." 

Lee  reassured  him. 


THE  GROPER  89 

'It's  the  women  that  always  make  a  fool  of  me,"  Ellwood 
set  forth  with  rueful  glee.    "How'd  you  make  out?" 

"I  think  Bernice  is  a  wonder,"  said  Lee  with  conviction. 
"One  of  the  decentest  girls  I've  ever  met." 

Ellwood  looked  as  if  he  wanted  to  laugh.  "Don't  let  'em 
kid  you  that  way.  I  s'pose  you  believed  her  even  when  she 
said  she  sent  all  her  money  home  to  mother?  June's  a  cute 
kid,  though,"  he  went  on.    "Are  you  going  again  Friday?" 

He  proposed  that  they  secure  seats  in  the  first  row,  so 
that  they  could  "boost  for  the  girls."  "We  don't  have  to 
get  there  till  late,"  he  explained.  "I  don't  want  to  listen  to 
all  that  rot  again." 

They  arrived  Friday  night  in  time  for  the  last  act  of  the 
show.  Lee  felt  a  definite  glow  of  pride  when  Bernice  threw 
him  a  cautious  smile  of  welcome.  It  seemed  to  give  him  a 
certain  superiority  over  the  rest  of  the  spectators. 

In  due  time  the  final  curtain  descended,  and  the  stage 
manager  appeared,  looking  pale  and  flabby  in  the  glare  of 
the  footlights. 

"Gentlemen,"  he  began  nervously,  "the  management  takes 
great  pleasure  in  announcing  a  Chorus  Girls'  Contest  this 
evening.  This  contest  is  open  to  any  girl  in  our  company. 
Each  contestant  will  do  an  act.  When  they  are  through  the 
audience  will  choose  the  winner.  First  prize  is  ten  dollars, 
second  prize,  five  dollars."    He  withdrew  deprecatingly. 

The  orchestra  struck  up,  and  a  chorus  girl  in  natty  white 
coat  and  trousers  advanced  to  the  centre  of  the  stage.  Hers 
was  a  "song-and-dance  act."  She  sang  in  a  weak,  color- 
less voice,  but  her  dancing  possessed  an  attractive  pertness 
and  she  won  considerable  applause. 

There  followed  six  other  chorus  girls,  whose  acts  covered  a 
wide  range  of  endeavor.  Two  "clogged";  and  one  unfor- 
tunate girl  who  essayed  to  give  "imitashuns"  of  leading 
Stage  celebrities,  was  booed  from  the  stage  before  she  had 


go  THE  GROPER 

gotten  fairly  started.  Each  act  drew  frank  comments  from 
the  audience. 

"Work  hard,  kid!"    "Some  shape!"    "Get  the  hook!" 

Lee  found  himself  in  a  state  of  nervous  tension.  He 
wondered  what  sort  of  a  reception  Bernice  Kohler  would 
get.  He  hated  to  think  of  her  being  insulted  by  these 
rowdies. 

The  orchestra  attacked  still  another  tune,  and  this  time 
it  was  Bernice  who  tripped  lightly  out  from  the  wings.  Lee 
took  a  sharp  inhalation  of  breath.  She  was  wearing  her 
dark  blue  street  suit.  Save  for  a  light  make-up,  she  looked 
precisely  as  she  had  three  nights  before.  But  her  grace 
and  her  perfect  self-assurance! 

Bernice's  song  proved  to  be  "Does  Your  Mother  Know 
You're  Out,  Little  Girl?"  She  attempted  no  dancing — : 
simply  sang,  with  an  occasional  gesture  or  movement  of 
her  head.  Her  voice  was  thoroughly  pleasant,  and  her 
facial  expressions  eloquent.  At  intervals  she  smiled  down 
at  Lee. 

The  audience  seemed  very  quiet,  it  occurred  to  him.  He 
hadn't  heard  a  single  audible  comment.  What  was  the 
difference  between  the  other  girls  and  Bernice?  Could  it 
possibly  be  that  everybody  else  in  the  theatre  sensed  the 
appeal  of  her  shining  goodness? 

She  finished  the  song,  gave  a  quick  curtsy,  and  dis- 
appeared in  the  wings. 

The  whole  house  applauded  wildly.  Bernice  had  to  re- 
peat the  chorus  twice  before  the  demonstration  died  away. 

The  Stage  Manager  announced  that  the  contest  was  over. 

"Wonder  what's  happened  to  June,"  said  Ellwood. 

Each  one  of  the  performers  now  walked  out  on  the  stage, 
and  the  audience  indicated  her  popularity  by  the  amount 
of  its  applause.  When  Bernice  reappeared,  a  second  demon- 
stration ensued.  None  of  the  other  contestants  elicited 
half  the  tumult  of  her  welcome.     Thereupon   the  stage 


THE  GROPER 


91 


manager  proclaimed  her  the  winner,  and  with  elaborate 
ceremony  presented  her  with  a  ten-dollar  gold  piece.  Lee's 
pride  in  his  acquaintance  with  her  waxed  enormous. 

"She's  all  right,"  granted  Ellwood,  as  they  filed  out  of 
the  theatre.    "I  didn't  think  she  had  it  in  her." 

Outside  a  cold  rain  had  set  in.  They  turned  up  their 
overcoat  collars — Lee's  cravanette  at  last  justified  its 
existence — and  repaired  to  the  alley  outside  the  stage  door. 

Presently  June  Diamond  emerged  from  the  mysterious 
domain  beyond  the  door.    She  ran  eagerly  up  to  Ellwood, 

"Were  you  s'prised  I  didn't  come  on  for  the  contest?" 
she  importuned.  "Well,  I  would've,  only  my  costoom  didn't 
get  back  from  the  cleaners.    You  ought-a  see  it — it's  swell!" 

"That's  a  fine  stall!"  laughed  Ellwood.  "I'll  bet  you  had 
cold  feet." 

For  the  first  time  she  became  aware  of  Lee.  "Oh  say!" 
she  told  him,  "Bernice  has  a  date  with  Dave  Rosenberger 
to-night." 

Lee's  spirits  sank  dismally.  "Dave  who?"  he  contrived 
to  ask. 

"Rosenberger.  The  owner  of  the  show.  Calls  himself 
Dave  Rose,  for  short.  Bernice  tried  to  duck  it,  and 
couldn't.  But  she  says  to  me,  'Tell  Mr.  Hillquit  to  meet 
me  at  the  hotel  an  hour  from  now.  I'll  break  away  from 
Rose  as  soon's  I  can.' " 

Ellwood  suggested  that  the  three  of  them  go  to  the  Chop 
Suey  Gardens  in  the  meantime.  But  it  was  readily  apparent 
that  June  wanted  Ellwood  all  to  herself,  and  Lee  hadn't 
the  heart  to  accept  the  invitation. 

"I'll  bring  Bernice  there  as  soon  as  I  meet  her,"  he  said. 

He  watched  them  start  gaily  forth  in  Ellwood's  run- 
about, then  began  a  long  walk  through  the  rain.  He  won- 
dered if  Bernice  would  really  meet  him.  Perhaps  she  had 
sent  him  that  message  merely  to  get  him  out  of  the  way. 
He  had  heard  tales  of  how  chorus  girls  delighted  to  "string 


92  THE  GROPER 

stage-door  mashers."  What  did  Rosenberger  want  with 
her,  anyway? 

By  half-past  eleven,  he  was  pacing  anxiously  up  and 
down  in  the  vicinity  of  the  cheap  hotel.  During  his  six 
months  in  Detroit,  he  had  smoked  hardly  at  all,  but  to- 
night he  lighted  cigaret  after  cigaret. 

After  fifteen  minutes  he  saw  Bernice  and  her  short,  obese 
escort  approaching.  Hurriedly  he  crossed  the  street.  He 
thought  Bernice  observed  him  clandestinely  as  they  passed 
by.    She  left  the  owner  of  the  "Paris  Queens"  at  the  door. 

"Mr.  Rose,  for  short,"  was  maddeningly  deliberate  about 
taking  himself  off.  He  paused  on  the  street  corner,  lighted 
a  cigar,  and  ever  and  anon  looked  back  into  the  hotel. 

But  at  last  he  boarded  a  street  car.  And  then — at  last — 
Bernice  appeared  again  from  the  elevator  and  walked  quick- 
ly out  into  the  street.  She  seemed  all  aglow  with  excite- 
ment.   Her  eyes  shone. 

"Has  he  gone?"  she  asked  breathlessly.  "I  thought  I 
never  could  get  rid  of  him." 

They  set  out  briskly  for  the  chop  suey  emporium.  Lee's 
blood  tingled.  Here  was  adventure,  excitement,  a  persistent 
sense  of  delicious  wickedness. 

"What  did  Mr.  Rose  want?"  he  inquired. 

Bernice  tossed  her  head  lightly.  "Oh,  about  once  a 
week  he  thinks  he's  got  to  make  love  to  me.  Always  starts 
out  tellin'  me  how  much  he's  goin'  to  do  for  me  on  the 
stage,  an'  ends  up  by  gettin'  silly  about  my  eyes.  But 
he's  the  least  of  "my  worries." 

There  was  no  sign  of  June  Diamond  and  Ellwood  in  the 
garishly  decorated  "Gardens,"  and  Bernice  collapsed  into 
a  chair  despondently. 

"She  never  intended  to  be  here,  and  I  oughn't  to  have 
left  her  out  of  my  sight  a  minute."  Real  anxiety  came  into 
her  candid  eyes.  "She's  such  a  crazy  little  thing.  I  have 
to  keep  my  eyes  on  her  all  the  time.    That's  my  job." 


THE  GROPER  93 

He  endeavored  to  reassure  her  once  more  about  Ellwood. 

"No,  you're  wrong,"  disagreed  Bernice.  "I  said  the  other 
night  I  didn't  trust  your  friend;  and  from  what  June  told 
me  about  him,  I  know  I  got  him  sized  up  right.  The  only 
thing  in  life  that  interests  him  is  havin'  a  good  time — excite- 
ment.   Any  girl's  fair  game  to  him." 

"Ellwood's  not  as  bad  as  all  that,"  remonstrated  Lee. 
"He's  mighty  kind-hearted  and  generous.  He  may  be 
thoughtless,  but " 

"What  difference  does  that  make,"  she  interrupted  almost 
fiercely,  "as  long  as  he  does  such  rotten  things?"  She 
softened  a  little.  "Course  I  know  he's  your  friend,  but  all 
the  same,  fellows  like  that  always  get  my  goat.  They  don't 
see  our  side  of  it  at  all."  Suddenly  she  smiled  and  her 
voice  regained  its  charming  quality.  "Anyhow,  you're  not 
that  way." 

They  both  ordered  beer,  and  a  moment  later,  Lee  asked 
her  the  old,  old  question  that  every  youth  propounds  to  his 
first  chorus-girl  acquaintance. 

"Aren't  there  a  lot  of  temptations  on  the  stage?  Can  a 
girl  stay  good?" 

Bernice  laughed.  "Why,  sure  she  can.  Being  in  the 
chorus  ain't  much  different  than  being  anywhere  else.  The 
only  thing  is— you're  away  from  home."  She  took  a  sip 
of  beer,  and  Lee  noticed  again  the  patent  honesty  of  those 
large,  rough  hands  of  hers.  "That  old  idea  about  chorus 
girls  is  all  wrong— take  it  from  me.  They're  just  as  good 
as  any  other  girls,  an'  they  have  a  lot  more  ambition. 
They're  more  interestin'.  You  see,  they're  the  ones  who 
ain't  satisfied  t'  stay  home  an'  wash  dishes.  Something  in 
'em  makes  'em  want  t'  get  out  in  the  world  an'  make  their 
own  livin'.  They're  more  self-reliant.  They've  got  more 
personality."  She  was  silent  an  instant.  "Of  course,  its 
different  with  the  stars.  I  bet  there  ain't  more'n  one  star 
actress  in  a  dozen  that  don't  have  t'  pay  the  price. 


94  THE  GROPER 

One  bottle  of  beer  sufficed  for  Bernice;  all  too  soon,  she 
announced  that  they  must  go.  Both  of  them  were  sorry 
when  the  half-extinguished  lights  of  the  hotel  loomed  up 
through  the  cold  drizzle.  By  common  consent,  they  walked 
past  the  entrance,  and  finally  came  to  an  irresolute  pause 
in  a  darkened  doorway.  The  wet  streets  were  entirely  de- 
serted; the  asphalt  pavement  glistened  coldly. 

"Am  I  going  to  see  you  again?"  said  Lee. 

"I  wish  you  could,  but  to-morrow  night,  we  all  have  V 
rush  right  down  to  the  train  for  Chicago,  an'  I  don't  s'pose 
we'd  have  any  chance  t'  talk." 

"Well,  I  guess  it's  good-bye,  then."  He  started  to  tell 
her  how  good  she  was  and  how  glad  he  was  to  know  her.  "I 
wish  you  lots  of  good  luck,  and  I  expect  you'll  be  on 
Broadway  sure  next  year." 

The  light  from  the  arc  lamp  fell  on  her  face.  There  was 
something  in  her  eyes  that  made  him  breathe  faster — some- 
thing tender,  Madonna-like. 

All  at  once,  as  if  by  common  desire,  they  kissed  each 
other. 

"Good-bye,"  she  whispered.  "You're  an  awful  decent 
fellow." 


XII 

LEE  found  it  difficult  to  take  Ellwood  James  to  task. 
The  irrepressible  young  physician  opened  alluring 
avenues  of  novel  entertainment.  He  was  "good 
company";  he  offered  an  escape  from  the  corrosion  of  lone- 
liness. He  afforded  exactly  the  proper  antidote  for  Lee's 
growing  pessimism.  More  than  that,  Lee  really  liked  him. 
There  was  an  undercurrent  of  sincerity,  of  warmth,  of 
human  kindliness,  about  him.  It  was  evident  that  he  had 
detected  Lee's  despondency  and  wanted  to  cheer  him  up. 
Lee  hesitated  to  risk  the  loss  of  such  an  attractive  friendship. 

Nevertheless,  so  moved  had  he  been  by  Bernice  Kohler's 
unhappiness  over  June  Diamond,  that  he  resolutely  ap- 
proached what  he  considered  his  duty. 

Ellwood  listened  to  his  homily  on  the  single  standard 
of  morality  with  poorly  concealed  amusement. 

"You  know  almost  as  much  about  women  as  the  man 
in  the  moon,"  he  finally  retorted.  "The  funny  part  of  it 
is,  you're  really  sincere." 

This  hardly  sounded  repentant.  "Of  course  I'm  sincere, 
and  I'm  right,  too,"  Lee  affirmed. 

Ellwood's  cheerful  features  actually  became  grave  as  he 
shook  his  head. 

"No,  you're  wrong— and  it's  hard  to  believe  you're  as 
innocent  as  you  seem.  And  yet  every  fellow  starts  out  that 
way_reSpecting  women,  putting  them  up  on  a  pedestal. 
That's  what  we  were  taught  at  home.  It's  only  when  we've 
lived  out  in  the  world  awhile  that  we  find  out  all  our  dope 
about  women  was  wrong — just  a  myth." 

95 


96  THE  GROPER 

Ellwood  stopped  his  runabout  to  roll  a  cigaret.  Instead 
of  starting  again,  he  shut  off  the  motor.  Lee  was  startled  by 
a  sudden  look  of  pain  in  his  eyes. 

"I  used  to  feel  the  same  as  you.  I  don't  mind  telling 
you  I  was  awfully  in  love  about  two  years  ago — with  a  nice 
girl,  I  mean.  I  did  the  pedestal  stuff  myself.  Why,  hon- 
estly, Lee,  I  wouldn't  have  any  more  thought  of  even 
touching  that  girl  than  I  would  of — say,  of  hitting  my 
mother  with  my  fist.  I  wanted  to  marry  her.  She  made  me 
feel  I  was  terribly  unworthy  of  her,  and  that  she  didn't 
think  any  too  much  of  me.  Well,  one  night,  a  beastly 
little  roughneck  goes  up  to  call  on  her.  His  first  call.  None 
of  the  pedestal  stuff  for  him.  Before  the  evening's  half 
gone,  he  up  and  kisses  her — loves  her  up.  I  got  it  all 
straight  from  him  afterwards — the  damned  cad!  Was  the 
girl  insulted?  Did  she  call  her  father  or  brother,  and  have 
the  roughneck  kicked  out?  I  should  say  not.  She  fell 
for  him  hard.  Thought  he  was  the  finest  man  she'd  ever 
seen.  He  said  she  used  to  pester  him  to  death  calling  him 
on  the  'phone. 

"And  that's  another  queer  thing:  when  a  man  turns  a 
girl  down,  all  the  women  call  him  a  brute;  but  when  a 
girl  jilts  a  man,  everybody  thinks  it  kind  of  a  joke." 

Ellwood's  cigaret  glowed  with  the  vehemence  of  his 
puffing.  "I've  talked  with  a  good  many  fellows  about  it, 
and  nearly  every  one  has  had  the  same  experience.  Well, 
that  little  affair  taught  me  something,  Lee.  First  of  all, 
never  to  take  any  woman  seriously.  The  man  who's  in 
love  is  always  at  a  disadvantage.  Sex  is  just  a  warfare; 
if  you  don't  get  the  upper  hand,  the  woman  will — and  the 
minute  she  has  it,  she  doesn't  give  a  snap  of  her  finger  for 
you  any  more.  Respect,  adoration — bosh!  They  just  bore 
a  woman  to  tears.  What  she  wants  above  all  things  is  a 
man  who  won't  knuckle  down  to  her.  Every  girl  I've  ever 
been  really  nice  to — highminded,  considerate,  you  know — 


THE  GROPER  97 

has  handed  me  a  dirty  deal  in  the  end;  but  the  girls  I'm 
rotten  to  seem  to  think  I'm  some  boy!  It's  funny,  I  know, 
but  it's  the  truth  and  you'll  find  it  out." 

Lee  was  silent.  He  was  thinking  of  his  experience  with 
Vera.    It  was  startlingly  like  Ellwood's  affair. 

"Still,  that  doesn't  excuse  a  man  for  really  harming  a 
girl,"  he  insisted. 

Ellwood  laughed,  and  cranked  the  motor  into  action. 
"Well,  you're  right,  I  s'pose.  I  doubt  if  I've  ever  harmed 
any  of  'em  very  much,  and  yet  I'm  what  you'd  call  an 
immoral  youth.  Most  girls  are  a  lot  wiser  than  you  think; 
they  know  what  they're  doing  even/-  minute.  All  this  sob- 
stuff  about  'ruining  girls'  is  largely  imaginary.  But  I  make 
it  a  point  to  play  pretty  fair  with  them.  I  have  just  two 
rules:  I  never  tell  a  girl  I  love  her;  and  I  never  break  a 
girl  in." 

"You  may  not  actually  say  you  love  them,"  Lee  distin- 
guished, "but  you  certainly  make  them  think  you  do.  June 
Diamond  thought  you  were  crazy  about  her." 

"Well,  I  can't  help  acting  the  way  I  feel,"  protested  the 
amorous  doctor.  "I'm  able  to  love  almost  any  girl  till  I've 
landed  her.  After  that,  they're  all  alike."  His  pause  had 
a  reminiscent  flavor.  "You  don't  understand,  Lee.  It  isn't 
the  physical  part  that  appeals  to  me.  It's  the  excitement, 
the  suspense — and  a  lot  of  vanity,  too,  I  s'pose." 

Lee  had  a  sudden  feeling  of  antipathy.  "I  can't  see 
the  sport  in  it.    I  believe  a  man  should  stay  clean." 

"That's  a  nasty  way  of  putting  it,"  said  Ellwood  after  a 
moment.  "I  used  to  think  of  everything  as  good  or  bad; 
but  now  I  classify  them  as  interesting  or  boresome.  And 
almost  everything  bores  me— after  about  so  long— except 
women.  They're  inconsistent,  deceitful,  spiteful;  and  yet 
every  new  girl  is  an  absolute  novelty  to  me.  Of  course,  I 
know  way  down  in  my  heart  that  she's  just  like  all  the 
rest,  and  I'll  be  awfully  sick  of  her  later  on;  but  when  I 


98  THE  GROPER 

first  meet  her,  she  seems  different  from  any  other  girl  IVe 
ever  seen." 

Lee  persisted  in  his  disapprobation,  so  emphatically,  in- 
deed, that  he  saw  no  more  of  Ellwood  for  several  weeks. 
Meanwhile  he  had  been  continuing  his  despondent  half- 
hearted search  for  work.  Every  day  he  found  some  excuse 
for  spending  several  hours  in  the  unventilated  warmth  of 
the  library  reading  room.  He  left  his  name  with  three 
employment  agents,  but  they  shook  their  heads  pessimisti- 
cally over  his  admission  that  he  had  no  profession  or  trade. 

His  mother's  letters  now  became  more  insistent  upon  his 
return  to  Chatham.  "I've  been  feeling  poorly  the  last  few 
weeks,"  she  wrote,  "and  I  simply  can't  seem  to  make  ends 
meet."  This  meant  but  one  thing:  he  must  either  find 
employment  at  once  or  go  back  to  Chatham,  an  acknowl- 
edged failure. 

March  went  out  like  a  lion;  and  Lee,  walking  day  by 
day  through  the  slush,  finally  succumbed  to  a  bad  attack 
of  influenza.  He  was  confined  to  his  bed  for  an  entire 
week,  with  no  medical  attendance  save  the  inexpert  minis- 
trations of  Mrs.  Holmes.  Bob  Hamilton  wanted  to  tele- 
phone Ellwood  James,  but  Lee  petulantly  forbade  it. 

During  these  long  days  of  acute  physical  discomfort,  his 
small  residuum  of  courage  completed  evaporated. 

Late  one  windy  afternoon,  he  emerged  shakily  upon  the 
street.  The  loneliness  of  the  rooms  was  unbearable.  The 
air  might  do  him  good,  he  thought. 

He  looked  dismally  up  and  down  Cass  avenue.  Within  a 
day  or  two,  he  would  be  saying  good-bye  to  the  city  for 
good.  He  had  given  up  all  hope  of  getting  work.  He  must 
face  the  mediocrity,  the  knowing  grins,  the  whispered  gos- 
sip of  Chatham.  He  started  slowly  up  the  street.  Never 
before  had  he  felt  so  desolate,  so  forlorn,  so  poverty-stricken. 
Presently  he  turned  a  corner  and  walked  aimlessly  west- 
Ward. 


THE  GROPER  99 

All  at  once  he  visualised  Mrs.  Wakefield,  a  triumphant 
look  on  her  face,  saying  to  Vera,  "Didn't  I  tell  you  so?" 

A  splendid  limousine  sped  swiftly  past.  How  wonderful 
it  must  be,  he  reflected,  never  to  have  to  worry  about 
money,  to  possess  everything  one  wanted  in  life.  It  must 
give  one  a  sense  of  absolute  freedom.  Poverty  was  stifling, 
suffocating. 

He  hardly  observed  that  the  limousine  had  slackened  and 
stopped  a  few  rods  down  the  street.  As  he  came  abreast  of 
it,  he  heard  his  name  pronounced.  He  turned  in  great  sur- 
prise, and  saw  that  a  woman  in  the  limousine  had  opened 
the  door  and  was  nodding  to  him  in  evident  recognition. 
He  lifted  his  hat  uncertainly,  and  had  taken  a  couple  of 
steps  toward  the  curb  before  he  recognised  Mrs.  Curran. 

"I  thought  it  was  you,  so  I  stopped — just  on  impulse." 
She  smiled  at  him  in  friendly  fashion,  and  his  forlorn  spirit 
warmed  gratefully  toward  her.  "Where  are  you  going? 
Can't  I  give  you  a  lift?" 

The  interior  of  the  limousine  looked  marvellously  invit- 
ing. Lee  explained  that  he  had  been  ill  and  was  walking 
aimlessly. 

"You  poor  boy!"  Mrs  Curran  sympathised.  "I  wish  I 
had  known.  But  come  in  anyway.   A  ride  will  do  you  good." 

Lee  temporized  no  further  and  entered  the  limousine  with 
a  feeling  of  pleasant  anticipation.  The  cushioned  seat  re- 
ceived his  body  with  a  soft  luxuriousness.  The  limousine 
gathered  headway  smoothly,  glided  along  with  swift  ease.  ^ 

Mrs.  Curran,  with  occasional  swift  glances,  was  taking  in 
his  whole  appearance:  his  attenuated,  pale  face  with  its 
lines  of  distinction;  his  shy,  sensitive  eyes;  his  seedy-looking 
cravanette  and  trousers,  noticeably  frayed  at  the  edges.  An 
idea,  half  kindly,  half  capricious,  came  to  her. 

"You  must  come  home  and  have  dinner  with  me,"  she  an- 
nounced quite  as  if  the  matter  were  thereby  settled.  "Ill 
send  you  back  to  your  house  afterwards  in  the  car." 


ioo  THE  GROPER 

Frankly  the  prospect  seemed  Elysian  to  Lee.  His  pres- 
ent taste  of  luxury  was  like  an  intoxicant  to  him.  But  he 
thought  it  good  manners  to  hesitate. 

"Won't  it  inconvenience  you  at  all?"  he  asked. 

"Not  a  bit,"  she  assured  him.  "I  had  expected  to  go 
out  for  dinner,  but  at  the  last  moment,  my  hostess  post- 
poned." 

Mrs.  Curran  professed  two  short  business  errands  before 
dinner,  and  they  drove  downtown.  While  she  was  absent, 
Lee  sat  back  and  closed  his  eyes  for  a  moment.  It  all 
seemed  indescribably  blissful.  Hundreds  of  people  hurried 
by  on  their  way  home.  The  cold  April  wind  still  blew  fero- 
ciously, and  women's  dresses  and  men's  overcoats  flapped 
in  wild  abandon.  Many  of  these  wayfarers  cast  envious 
glances  at  Lee,  seated  snugly  in  the  limousine's  shelter. 
Doubtless  they  believed  that  he  owned  this  resplendent 
car,  that  he  was  a  wealthy  "Society  man."  Lee  was  never 
beyond  posing  just  a  little;  and  he  now  assumed  a  convinc- 
ing attitude  of  haughty  boredom. 

At  length  the  limousine  drew  up  in  front  of  a  large  house 
of  stone  and  brick,  designed  after  the  grand  manner  of  the 
late  'eighties.  Wells  street  boasted  two  solid  blocks  of  just 
such  mansions,  set  far  back  from  the  sidewalk  behind  ex- 
pansive lawns.  But  for  all  its  impressiveness,  the  street  had 
begun  to  lose  its  brisk  spick-and-spanness.  The  first  touches 
of  senility  seemed  to  have  settled  down  like  mildew  over  the 
old  houses. 

To  Lee,  however,  Mrs.  Curran's  home  appeared  entirely 
majestic.  Inside,  the  staircase  ran  up  from  the  left  side 
of  the  hallway;  and  on  either  side  opened  out  spacious 
rooms  with  lofty  ceilings.  Mrs.  Curran  had  dispensed  with 
most  of  the  earlier  decorations  and  fixtures.  The  gaudy  old 
chandeliers  had  long  since  given  way  to  modern  electric 
light  wall-brackets — though  she  still  favored  a  few  inviting- 
looking  kerosene  table-lamps.    The  highly  ornate  walls  and 


THE  GROPER  101 

dingy,  gingerbread  frescoes  had  yielded  to  severely  plain 
wallpaper  and  calcimine,  relieved  by  a  few  very  good  pic- 
tures. The  dining  room  and  drawing  room  were  richly 
sombre  in  mahogany  panelling. 

Mrs.  Curran  led  him  into  the  drawing  room,  where  a 
crackling  log  fire  filled  an  enormous  grate. 

"This  hearth  is  the  one  thing  I  really  love  about  the 
place,"  she  explained. 

Lee  expressed  admiration  for  the  whole  house. 

"Perhaps  you  wouldn't  feel  so,  if  you  had  lived  here 
twenty  years.  No,  it's  getting  pretty  old  and  inconvenient, 
and  the  neighborhood  is  beginning  to  break  up.  The  Jews 
and  rooming  houses  are  starting  to  come  in,  and  that  always 
means  the  finish  of  a  good  residence  district.  I  suppose  in 
another  year,  I'll  have  to  build,  out  on  the  East  Side  some- 
where." 

Mrs.  Curran  excused  herself,  and  Lee  sat  down  on  the 
great  red  davenport  in  front  of  the  fire.  He  found  himself 
admiring  Mrs.  Curran  intensely.  He  couldn't  help  remark- 
ing her  delightful  enunciation,  her  poise,  her  ease  of  manner, 
her  apparent  freedom  from  affectation.  He  had  expected 
that  a  "Society  woman,"  such  as  she,  would  maintain  an 
air  of  aloof  formality.  But  Mrs.  Curran  talked  and  acted 
like  any  other  human  being;  and  yet  he  sensed  an  indefin- 
able superiority — a  polish,  a  savoir  faire,  perhaps— that 
compelled  his  unstinted  worship.  There  was  a  certain  charm 
about  her,  too— in  spite  of  her  utter  lack  of  beauty.  Even 
in  the  freshness  of  her  youth,  she  couldn't  have  been  at 
all  pretty.  Her  mouth  was  too  large,  and  her  dominating 
black  eyes  slanted  slightly  upwards  toward  her  temples, 
in  a  sensuous  sort  of  way.  Her  prominent  cheek-bones, 
taken  in  connection  with  her  eyes,  gave  her  face  a  distinctly 
Mongolian  suggestion.  Nevertheless,  she  did  possess  a  cer- 
tain attractiveness,  a  certain  distinct  magnetism. 

To  Lee,  it  seemed  akin  to  a  miracle  that  he  should  be 


io2     :  :<*..::•  THE  GROPER 

sitting  in  this  beautiful  house,  the  dinner-guest  of  a  charm- 
ing and  distinguished  woman.  Two  hours  ago,  he  had 
been  wandering  wretchedly  about  the  streets.  There  was 
such  a  thing  as  human  kindness  after  all.  He  felt  that  he 
would  do  anything  in  the  world  for  Mrs.  Curran  to  show 
his  deep  appreciation. 

His  evening  proved  wholly  delightful.  Mrs.  Curran  was 
more  wonderful  than  ever  in  an  evening  gown.  The  dinner 
itself  seemed  an  undreamt-of  feast,  especially  after  the 
meager  mediocrity  of  the  boarding  house.  The  radiantly 
white  napery,  the  scintillating  glass-ware,  the  deft,  defer- 
ential maid,  the  pervading  atmosphere  of  wealth  and  refine- 
ment: all  made  their  sharp  impression  on  his  imagination. 
To  be  sure,  he  felt  ashamed  of  his  clothing — he  had  partic- 
ular trouble  with  a  shirt  cuff  that  was  positively  ragged; 
and  he  was  under  the  constant  dread  of  using  the  wrong 
knife  and  fork. 

Gradually  his  self-consciousness  melted  away  under  the 
unmistakable  kindliness  of  his  hostess.  Mrs.  Curran  talked 
along  easily — about  superficial  things  for  the  most  part,  but 
always  in  a  way  that  commanded  his  interest.  Her  manner 
indicated  that  she  found  his  opinions  of  considerable  weight. 
Then  subtly  she  began  to  draw  him  out.  Lee,  of  course, 
failed  to  realise  the  manipulation.  He  only  knew  that  a 
desire  for  self-expression  came  over  him.  Before  long  he 
had  told  her  about  Vera,  about  his  bitter  experiences  in 
the  real  estate  business;  how  discouraged  he  was. 

"All  the  same,  I  still  feel  sometimes  that  I'm  going  to 
accomplish  fine  things  in  life,"  he  said.  "I  feel  that  way 
to-night." 

Then  Mrs.  Curran  made  an  odd  remark.  They  were 
back  in  the  drawing  room,  in  front  of  the  fire. 

"How  your  eyes  shine!" 

It  seemed  to  Lee  that  his  ardent  flow  of  thought  was 
somewhat  checked. 


THE  GROPER  103 

"Pardon  me — I  didn't  mean  to  sound  personal,"  said 
his  hostess  quickly.  "It  was  such  a  curious  reflection  of  the 
light  that  I  couldn't  help  noticing  it." 

"I  understand  perfectly,"  assured  Lee. 

Mrs.  Curran  looked  into  the  fire  thoughtfully.  "I  can't 
see  why  you  should  be  discouraged.  You're  well  educated; 
you  have  a  good  personality.    You've  just  had  bad  luck." 

Lee  suffered  a  reaction.  "All  the  same,  I'm  afraid  111 
have  to  go  back  home.  I  can't  find  anything  to  do  in 
Detroit." 

"Would  you  like  to  go  into  our  department  store?"  she 
inquired  casually.  "I  think  I  could  arrange  an  opening 
for  you  very  readily.    I'm  convinced  you  could  make  good." 

He  must  have  looked  his  eager  assent,  for  she  continued: 
"I'll  call  up  Mr.  Jameson,  the  employment  manager,  to- 
morrow morning.  Suppose  you  telephone  me  at  noon.  I 
can  tell  you  something  definite  by  that  time." 

Lee  found  it  difficult  to  express  his  gratitude. 

"That's  perfectly  all  right,"  Mrs.  Curran  said.  "Nothing 
gives  me  more  pleasure  than  helping  young  men  of  the 
right  sort." 

A  little  later,  when  he  rose  to  go,  Mrs.  Curran  insisted 
on  summoning  the  limousine. 

"I  want  you  to  watch  that  cold  of  yours,"  she  enjoined 
him.  "You  musn't  think  of  starting  to  work  for  another 
week  or  two." 

"I've  never  felt  so  well  in  my  life,"  Lee  protested.  "And 
it's  all  due  to  your  kindness." 

Mrs.  Curran  extended  her  hand  graciously.  "It's  been  an 
unexpectedly  pleasant  evening  for  me,  too.  Won't  you 
come  again  soon?" 

She  seemed  almost  diffident  about  inviting  him— much  as 
though  she  expected  him  to  refuse. 

"Do  you  really  mean  you  want  me  to?"  asked  Lee  in- 
genuously. 


104  THE  GROPER 

She  smiled  and  nodded. 

"Then  I  certainly  shall  come  again — soon,"  he  announced 
with  gravity. 

Good  fortune,  it  seemed,  had  at  last  begun  to  veer  in 
his  direction.  The  next  day  after  an  interminably  long 
morning,  he  telephoned  Mrs.  Curran. 

"I  had  a  talk  with  Mr.  Jameson  this  morning,"  she 
announced. 

"Oh,  yes — the  employment  manager,"  he  said  in  a  very 
small,  matter-of-fact  voice. 

"He  thinks  he  can  start  you  either  as  a  floor-walker  or 
window-dresser.  Of  course,  that  may  not  sound  very 
attractive,  but  it's  a  part  of  the  Curran  policy  never  to  take 
a  man  into  the  office  until  he's  spent  some  time  in  the 
store."    She  seemed  half-apologetic. 

Lee's  exultation  made  him  almost  inarticulate.  "It  sounds 
splendid  to  me! "  he  managed  to  say.  "I  can't  tell  you  how 
I  appreciate  it." 

"I  told  Mr.  Jameson  you'd  drop  in  and  talk  over  details 
with  him  as  soon  as  you  were  feeling  well  enough,"  went 
on  Mrs.  Curran.  "Also,  that  you  weren't  to  be  allowed  to 
do  any  work  until  Monday  at  least.  Good  luck  to  youl 
Come  and  tell  me  how  you  like  it." 

He  thanked  her  fervently,  said  good-bye  and  hung  up  the 
receiver.  Inside  his  room,  he  clenched  his  fists,  shut  his 
teeth  hard.  Tears  came  into  his  eyes.  Shock  after  shock 
of  happiness  passed  through  his  body.  Yet  six  months 
before  he  would  have  scoffed  contemptuously  at  an  oppor- 
tunity to  work  in  a  department  store. 

He  determined  to  call  upon  Mr.  Jameson  at  once.  He 
was  already  familiar  with  the  imposing  Woodward  avenue 
facade  of  the  Curran  establishment. 

Mr.  Jameson  proved  to  be  a  crisp,  efficient  individual  of 
forty  with  a  wide,  close-clipped  moustache  and  gleaming 
eye-glasses. 


THE  GROPER  105 

"I  am  Mr.  Hillquit,"  announced  Lee  in  his  usual  respect- 
ful way. 

"Who?"  The  employment  manager  continued  to  eye  his 
visitor  implacably. 

"Mr.  Hillquit.    Didn't  Mrs.  Curran " 

It  seemed  a  magic  name.  Mr.  Jameson  softened  percepti- 
bly. It  might  be  said  that  a  certain  faint  humorousness 
crept  into  his  manner. 

"Oh!"  he  recollected.    "You're  Mrs.  Curran's  protege." 

The  description  hardly  seemed  accurate,  but  Lee  nodded. 

Mr.  Jameson  made  a  number  of  memoranda  regarding  his 
visitor's  lack  of  qualifications. 

"I  think  there  are  only  two  openings  that  would  interest 
a  man  of  your  stamp,"  concluded  the  employment  manager. 
Lee  had  a  more  definite  impression  of  sly  playfulness  in 
Mr.  Jameson's  words.  "Which  would  you  prefer  being— a 
floor- walker  or  a  window-dresser?" 

Lee  had  an  impulse  to  ask  which  work  offered  the  more 
salary,  but  he  thought  another  line  of  inquiry  might  impress 
Mr.  Jameson  more  favorably. 

"Which  job  gives  me  the  better  opportunity  to  show  what 
I  can  do?" 

The  employment  manager's  eyes  opened  in  astonishment. 
"Either  one's  all  right  to  start  on,  and  they  pay  the  same." 

Lee  reflected.  If  there  was  really  no  choice  between  the 
two  positions,  he  instinctively  preferred  the  less  conspicuous. 

"I  think  I'd  like  to  try  window-dressing." 

"All  right,  sir.  You  can  report  Monday  morning  at  a 
quarter  before  eight.  Your  salary  will  start  at  twenty-five 
dollars." 

Lee  couldn't  see  the  humor  of  the  situation,  as  Mr.  Jame- 
son evidently  did;  but  he  thanked  the  employment  manager 
and  took  his  leave. 

Twenty-five  dollars  a  weekl  He  walked  elatedly  out  into 
the  street.    Once  more  he  felt  like  a  god  among  the  nun- 


106  THE  GROPER 

dreds  of  pedestrians  that  surrounded  him.  Twenty-four 
hours  ago,  he  had  been  in  the  deepest  morasses  of  despair, 
had  planned  to  give  up  the  fight  and  go  home.  How  proud 
his  mother  would  be  when  she  read  his  next  letter.  He 
felt  his  self-respect  come  surging  back  as  he  reflected  that 
his  days  of  dependence  on  her  were  at  an  end. 

Twenty-five  dollars  a  week!  From  long  habit,  he  began 
to  consider  the  possibility  of  marrying  Vera  on  that  salary. 
Then  he  closed  his  jaws  together  angrily.  "I'll  show  'em 
yet,"  he  promised  himself. 

All  at  once,  he  found  himself  thinking  once  more  of  Mrs. 
Curran — deeply  moved  by  her  kindness  to  him  and  her 
evident  appreciation  of  his  potentialities — paying  tribute 
more  unreservedly  than  ever  to  her  perfect  poise,  her 
delicious  accent,  her  subtle,  magnetic,  personal  charm. 


XIII 

THE  department  store  of  Curran  $  Company,  in  which 
Lee  Hillquit  began  work  the  following  Monday 
morning,  was  in  the  year  1908  the  second  largest 
institution  of  the  kind  in  Detroit.  It  occupied  a  massive 
six-story  brick  building  on  a  prominent  downtown  Wood* 
ward  avenue  corner;  within  its  spacious  confines  you  could 
purchase  anything  from  shoe  laces  to  a  five  hundred  dollar 
gown,  from  a  twenty-five  cent  stool  to  a  thousand  dollai 
grand  piano,  from  cotton  to  silk — anything,  in  fact,  except 
groceries. 

Such  imposing  proportions,  as  Lee  learned  later,  had 
grown  gradually  from  the  humblest  beginnings.  Joe  Curran, 
an  Irish  immigrant,  had  come  to  Detroit  in  the  early  'seven- 
ties, and  found  employment  as  a  general  handy  man  and 
porter  in  a  clothing  store  on  lower  Woodward  avenue. 
Ambitious,  ingenious,  he  had  painfully  acquired  a  business 
education.  Presently  he  was  a  salesman,  then  chief  buyer, 
then  general  manager.  In  the  'eighties,  the  clothing  store 
had  failed,  and  from  its  ruins  rose  a  new  establishment  under 
the  name  of  Curran  &  Company. 

Long  before  this,  Joe  Curran  had  brought  over,  first  Tom 
Curran,  then  Michael  Curran;  and  he  now  made  his  younger 
brothers  equal  partners  in  the  profitable  and  growing  estab- 
lishment. The  three  brothers,  red-faced,  rough-spoken,  gen- 
erous, were  familiar  characters  on  the  streets  of  the  city 
in  those  earlier  days.  Their  increasing  prosperity  changed 
them  not  one  whit.  They  remained  real  Irishmen— relent- 
lessly hostile  to  their  enemies,  loyal  to  their  friends  and  to 
each  other. 

107 


io8  THE  GROPER 

Yet  the  three,  so  alike  in  many  things,  possessed  widely 
divergent  characteristics.  Joe  Curran,  always  fond  of  his 
glass  of  whisky,  became  moodier  and  drank  harder  as  he 
grew  older;  Michael  Curran,  who  had  the  best  head  for 
business  of  the  three,  developed  into  that  rarity,  an  acquisi- 
tive Irishman;  Tom  Curran,  the  youngest  brother,  was  the 
dreamer  of  the  trio — gentle,  visionary,  in  spite  of  his  ruddy, 
bluff  exterior.  Joe  and  Tom  both  married;  Michael  re- 
mained a  bachelor. 

In  1890,  the  brothers  took  over  a  bankrupt  dry  goods 
stock.  That  was  the  haphazard  beginning  of  the  department 
store  idea.  Soon  they  had  joined  the  two  businesses  under 
one  roof,  and  had  added  a  small  department  for  women's 
shirt-waists  and  ready-made  dresses.  The  panic  of  1893 
caught  them  unaware  in  the  midst  of  this  expansion,  and 
after  a  long  struggle,  they  succumbed  to  a  receivership.  The 
creditors  were  ultimately  paid  fifty  cents  on  the  dollar. 

But  the  Curran  boys  were  not  so  easily  disposed  of. 
Within  six  months,  they  had  started  up  again  in  a  small 
way.  The  wholesalers  liked  them,  had  faith  in  their  integ- 
rity. By  1898,  the  business  was  more  prosperous  than  ever, 
and  the  brothers  had  paid  back  every  penny  of  their  receiver* 
ship  debts. 

But  the  anxieties  of  business  and  his  growing  intimacy 
with  Irish  whisky  had  undermined  Joe  Curran's  health,  and 
he  died  very  suddenly,  just  after  the  store  had  moved  into 
its  present  quarters.  Within  the  year,  Tom  Curran,  never 
so  rugged  as  his  brothers,  had  followed  his  older  brother 
to  the  grave.  Joe  Curran  was  survived  by  a  son  and  daugh- 
ter; Tom  Curran,  whose  marriage  had  been  childless,  left 
Lee's  benefactress  as  his  only  heir. 

The  business,  nevertheless,  kept  on  growing  under  Michael 
Curran's  sole  dictatorship.  In  1901,  two  more  stories  were 
added  to  the  building;  and  at  the  time  that  Lee  began  work, 
the  most  pressing  problem  was  lack  of  room.    The  three 


THE  GROPER  109 

acres  of  floor  space  were  so  crowded  with  merchandise  that 
no  department  could  expand  without  seriously  cramping  its 
neighbor.  Over  a  thousand  employes  swarmed  the  six  floors 
and  basement.  Twenty-five  thousand  people  came  into  the 
store  each  day.  The  gross  sales  for  the  year  1907  had  been 
in  excess  of  four  million  dollars. 

Lee  reported  to  Mr.  Jameson  promptly  at  a  quarter  before 
eight  on  Monday  morning. 

"Ill  introduce  you  to  Mr.  Doman,  the  advertising  mana- 
ger," said  Mr.  Jameson.    "You'll  be  under  his  supervision." 

Howard  Doman,  Curran  &  Company's  advertising  mana- 
ger, impressed  and  attracted  Lee  at  one  and  the  same  time. 
He  was  a  tremendous  figure  of  a  man,  six  feet  tall,  and 
easily  over  two  hundred  pounds  in  weight.  His  face  was 
round,  and  he  was  partly  bald.  Physical  vitality  cropped 
out  all  over  him.  But  what  rescued  his  expression  from  a 
near-grossness — what  really  arrested  Lee  and  imbued  in  him 
an  instant  loyalty— was  the  advertising  manager's  eyes. 
They  were  not  the  usual  cock-sure,  combative,  cynical  eyes 
that  Lee  had  grown  so  accustomed  to.  They  were  imagi- 
native, perceptive,  inquiring  eyes— above  all,  inquiring.  Do- 
man looked  at  Lee  as  if  he  had  never  before  beheld  a  human 
being.  In  the  years  of  close  association  between  the  two, 
Lee  never  saw  the  advertising  man  lose  that  perpetual  look 
of  captivated  interest,  of  fine  curiosity. 

Jameson  left  the  advertising  office,  and  Lee,  at  his  su- 
perior's suggestion,  sat  down.  For  another  moment,  Doman 
seemed  to  be  studying  his  new  employe. 

"Mrs.  Curran  seems  to  think  you  have  the  sort  of  qual- 
ities that  fit  you  for  work  in  my  department,"  he  began. 
"Do  you  think  you'd  like  it?"  n 

"I  don't  know  very  much  about  any  of  the  departments, 

confessed  Lee.  , 

"Well,  you  look  as  though  you  had  brains,    pronounced 

Doman,  then  abruptly  smiled. 


no  THE  GROPER 

Lee  warmed  to  the  smile.  He  liked  Doman's  whiter 
evenly  spaced  teeth.  More  than  that,  he  felt  the  attraction 
of  the  manager's  radiating  ability. 

"I'd  be  awfully  glad  to  have  you  give  me  a  try-out,"  he 
said. 

Doman  gave  him  a  concise  statement  of  the  modern 
theory  of  merchandising.  As  he  talked  he  made  cryptic 
diagrams  on  a  pad  of  blank  paper  on  his  desk. 

"Fifteen  years  ago,  there  was  no  such  thing  as  a  fixed 
price  for  anything.  The  salesman  sized  up  his  customer 
and  got  as  high  a  price  as  he  could.  The  department  store 
has  changed  all  that.  Every  article  on  sale  in  this  institution 
has  a  tag  on  it,  with  the  price  printed  in  plain  figures. 

"The  big  idea  of  the  modern  store  is  not  the  amount  of 
profit  on  each  article,  but  the  volume  of  business.  The 
goal  toward  which  every  single  man  and  woman  is  working 
is  to  keep  the  stock  moving  every  minute.  We  used  to 
order  enough  stock  to  keep  us  going  six  months.  To-day 
the  idea  is  to  keep  as  little  stock  as  possible,  to  order  every 
week,  to  make  as  many  ' turn-overs'  as  we  can  during  the 
year.  If  a  certain  line  doesn't  go  as  fast  as  it  should,  we 
have  a  bargain  day,  and  sell  it  at  a  loss.  Anything  to  get 
rid  of  it.    D'  you  see — big  sales,  low  profits." 

Lee  nodded. 

Each  department,  Doman  went  on,  was  a  separate  unit, 
yet  interdependent  on  every  other  department.  Each  de- 
partment had  its  separate  buyer — who  was  its  exclusive 
manager,  within  certain  limits — its  assistant  buyer,  its  stock 
clerk  and  its  salesmen  or  saleswomen.  At  the  beginning  of 
the  year,  each  department  was  allowed  so  much  capital  for 
its  purchases,  and  charged  with  its  fair  proportion  of  rent, 
lighting,  heating,  delivery  service  and  other  expenses.  Its 
sales  had  to  make  a  showing  of  a  certain  definite  profit  of 
about  seven  per  cent.  Every  department  fixed  its  prices 
to  ensure  this  same  percentage.    The  piano  department,  for 


THE  GROPER  III 

example,  had  to  secure  a  much  higher  gross  profit  on  each 
sale  than  the  notions  department,  because  the  piano  stock 
couldn't  be  "turned  over"  one-twentieth  as  rapidly  as  the 
stock  of  notions.  There  was  an  elaborate  checking  system 
that  enabled  the  heads  of  the  business  to  ascertain  the 
exact  amount  of  the  sales  and  the  condition  of  the  stock 
every  day. 

The  organisation  of  the  business  was  somewhat  complex, 
yet  every  man  knew  definitely  what  was  expected  of  him. 
Michael  Curran  was  the  active  head  of  the  business.  Hia 
was  the  final  decision  in  all  matters  of  importance.  He 
supervised  the  buying  and  selling — indeed,  he  still  did  some 
of  the  buying  of  men's  clothes.  He  fixed  the  prices.  He 
moulded  the  store's  general  policy,  gave  it  its  distinctive 
individuality.  Thus  the  Curran  department  store  had  come 
to  stand  in  the  public's  mind  for  medium-priced  merchan- 
dise. One  could  purchase  expensive  things  and  cheap  things 
over  its  counters;  but,  generally  speaking,  its  customers 
were  from  the  great  middle  class  of  the  city. 

Directly  responsible  to  Mr.  Curran  were  all  of  the  buyers 
of  the  various  departments,  and  certain  other  administrative 
heads — among  them  the  advertising  manager. 

Doman  tore  off  the  top  sheet  of  his  desk-pad,  and  started 
making  fantastic  diagrams  anew. 

"Of  all  the  departments,  I  think  ours  is  by  far  the  most 
interesting.  I  said  a  little  while  ago  that  our  whole  problem 
was  to  keep  the  goods  moving  fast,  to  build  up  the  volume 
of  sales.  How's  that  to  be  accomplished?  In  several  ways, 
of  course — giving  good  value,  dealing  honestly  with  people, 
having  good  salesmen  and  an  attractive  stock  of  goods.  But 
most  important  of  all— the  motor  that  pumps  life  through 
the  whole  organisation — is  the  advertising  department.  Ad- 
vertising is  essential  enough  in  every  business;  in  depart- 
ment stores,  it's  the  Big  Noise.  It's  what  makes  the  wheels 
go  round.    Mr.  Curran  pays  more  for  advertising  than  for 


112  THE  GROPER 

anything  else  in  the  store — except  of  course  his  stock  of 
goods  and  his  pay-roll.  What  d'  you  suppose  we  paid  the 
Detroit  newspapers  in  1907?" 

Lee  confessed  complete  nescience. 

"Over  one  hundred  thousand  dollars.  Think  of  it!  Be- 
tween two  and  three  per  cent,  of  the  gross  sales.  Some 
stores  pay  more,  some  less.  Do  you  get  the  significance  of 
it?  One  hundred  thousand  dollars  to  appeal  to  people's 
imaginations,  to  arouse  in  their  minds  a  craving  to  buy 
something.  Think  of  the  psychology  of  it!  And  if  I  could 
give  you  only  one  piece  of  advice,  it  would  be  this:  never 
lose  sight  of  the  tremendous  romance,  the  curious  thrill,  of 
advertising.  It's  the  most  absorbing  artistic  endeavor  that 
a  man  may  pursue." 

Lee  was  leaning  forward  eagerly.  "Yes,  I  get  just  an 
inkling  of  what  it  means.  I'd  never  thought  of  business  that 
way." 

"Window-displays  are  in  my  department — they're  a  form 
of  advertising,"  continued  Doman.  "A  mighty  important 
form,  too.  Thousands  of  people  pass  the  store  every  day. 
Lots  of  them  never  read  newspaper  advertisements.  A  good- 
looking  window  display  will  make  a  favorable  impression 
on  people.  Sooner  or  later,  they're  sure  to  see  something 
that  arouses  the  buying  desire,  which  is  the  purpose  of  all 
advertising.  Window-display  is  as  much  an  art  as  paint- 
ing— and  twice  as  fascinating,  in  my  judgment.  Think  of 
the  questions  of  color  combination,  of  composition,  of  sug- 
gestive surfaces,  involved  in  arranging  a  window.  Think 
of  the  difference  in  emotional  effect  between  a  good  black 
and  white  window,  and  a  window  in  scarlet." 

The  idea  seemed  to  arrest  his  attention  for  a  moment. 
"Well,  I  guess  I've  told  you  all  you  need  to  know,  Hillquit. 
I  always  like  to  give  a  new  man  a  bird's-eye-view  of  the 
business — get  his  imagination  working — before  he  starts  in. 
Now  I  want  you  to  try  your  hand  at  window-displays  for 


THE  GROPER  113 

awhile.  It'll  be  great  fun  for  you,  if  you  keep  the  right 
mental  attitude.  If  it  ever  gets  to  be  a  grind,  it's  because 
your  thinking  is  wrong  somewhere.  At  such  times,  I  find 
the  best  tonic  is  either  a  vacation  or  a  Turkish  bath." 

Doman's  exposition  made  a  strong  appeal  to  Lee.  He 
glimpsed  the  real  heart  of  business  for  the  first  time.  He 
saw  it,  not  as  the  grim,  distasteful  duty  he  had  always 
fancied  it,  but  as  something  alluring,  absorbing,  captivating. 

The  advertising  manager  conducted  him  into  the  outer 
office  and  introduced  him  to  Harry  Freytag,  the  chief  win- 
dow decorator. 

Somehow,  after  Doman's  sweeping  breadth  and  visualising 
power,  Freytag  seemed  a  distinct  let-down.  He  was  small 
and  unprepossessing;  his  thin  face  and  etiolated  skin,  his 
general  air  of  dejection,  gave  him  an  expression  of  pinched 
servility. 

Servility,  that  is,  as  long  as  Doman  remained  within 
fear-shot.  But  when  the  advertising  manager's  huge  bulk 
had  disappeared,  Freytag  waxed  openly  acidulous. 

"Why  in  God's  world  do  they  want  to  give  me  another 
assistant?"  he  implored.  "Every  new  greenhorn  that  shows 
up  they  drop  on  my  shoulders." 

Offhand  Lee  could  think  of  no  very  convincing  excuse  for 
the  imposition. 

"Never  had  no  experience?  No,  of  course  not,"  Freytag 
descanted  peevishly.  "Well,  the  first  thing  you  want  to  do 
is  forget  all  that  hot  air  Doman's  been  pumpin'  into  you. 
Window-dressin'  ain't  an  art— it's  an  instinct.  You  either 
got  it — or  you  ain't;  and  if  you  ain't,  no  amount  of  teachin' 
will  ever  do  any  good." 

Lee's  silence  seemed  to  mollify  Freytag  perceptibly.  "Put 
on  your  coat,  and  we'll  have  a  look  at  the  windows,"  he  di- 
rected. 

The  Curran  store,  located  as  it  was  on  a  corner,  had 
sixteen  show-windows,  built  out  from  the  store  in  an  old- 


114  THE  GROPER 

fashioned  way;  and  it  was  the  work  of  Freytag  and  his 
three  assistants  to  keep  each  window  attractively  arranged, 
and  to  change  the  displays  at  least  once  a  week. 

"Each  important  department  has  one  or  two  windows," 
Freytag  expatiated.  "It's  always  the  same  window,  so  that 
people  will  know  just  where  to  look  for  the  display  they 
want.  Men's  clothing  has  had  this  big  double  corner  win- 
dow ever  since  we  moved  up  here.  Now  we'll  take  a  look 
at  each  window,"  he  announced,  "and  I  want  you  to  tell 
me  just  what  you  think  of  it,  and  why." 

Lee  surveyed  the  display  of  men's  suits  and  spring  over- 
coats judicially. 

"I  should  say  it  was  very  effective,  as  a  whole,"  he  ob- 
served after  a  moment.  "The  chief  trouble  is  that  there's 
too  much  in  the  window.  Fewer  suits  would  be  better." 
The  day  was  cloudy  and  the  window  was  lighted  by  clus- 
ters of  lights  in  the  ceiling.  "And  I  think  those  lights  dis- 
tract one's  attention.  It  would  be  better  if  they  could  be 
out  of  sight  somewhere." 

Freytag  looked  at  Lee,  then  back  at  the  window.  "You're 
right  about  the  lights,  anyway,  and  maybe  about  the  rest," 
he  agreed. 

They  passed  on  to  displays  of  bathrobes  and  cravats, 
women's  suits  and  cloaks — this  display  occupied  three  win- 
dows on  Woodward  avenue — waists,  evening  gowns,  furs, 
leather  novelties,  furniture,  rugs,  pianos  and  phonographs, 
curtains  and  draperies,  kitchen  cabinets,  linens,  silks.  Small 
show  cases  at  the  entrance  to  the  store  contained  silver- 
ware, books,  pictures  and  other  articles. 

Lee  found  one  or  two  color  combinations  that  repelled 
him;  and  he  criticised  the  Japanese  screen  that  formed  the 
background  of  the  furniture  exhibit,  on  the  theory  that  its 
grotesque  figures  would  draw  attention  from  the  furniture 
itself. 

Freytag  combated  some  of  his  suggestions,  but  his  atti- 


THE  GROPER  115 

tude  became  more  and  more  approving.  He  paused  in  front 
of  the  linen  exhibit. 

"The  first  two  weeks  in  April  we  always  feature  a  spring 
linen  sale,"  he  said.  "You'll  find  it  played  up  in  all  the 
advertising.  Well,  we  work  hand-and-glove  with  the  sales 
end.  Our  displays  must  feature  the  stuff  they're  pushin'  on 
the  inside.  You'll  remember  there  ain't  been  a  single  price- 
card  in  any  window  up  to  now;  but  there  are  at  least  fifty 
in  this  window." 

One  large  placard  stood  in  the  centre  of  the  display. 
"Curran's  Great  Spring  Linen  Sale,"  it  read.  Each  article  in 
the  window  had  its  small  yellow  price-card — "29c,  as  ad- 
vertised," "59c,  as  advertised,"  etc. 

"It's  against  the  store's  policy  to  put  price-tags  in  the 
window,  except  on  sales  like  this,"  pointed  out  the  chief 
window-decorator.  "And  we  never  say:  'formerly  one  dol- 
lar, now  sixty-two  cents' — either  in  our  displays  or  our  ad- 
vertisin'.  That's  the  Curran  policy.  We  leave  that  kind  of 
stuff  to  the  cheap  stores." 

Conscious  of  having  made  a  good  impression  on  Freytag, 
Lee  began  to  grow  enthusiastic  once  more.  "It  looks  like 
mighty  interesting  work,"  he  said.  "A  man  ought  to  have 
plenty  of  chance  to  show  his  originality." 

"There  you  go  on  Doman's  stuff  again."  Freytag's  ema- 
ciated face  reflected  high  disgust.  "No,  there  ain't  any 
poetry  about  the  window-display  game,  take  it  from  me. 
Nothin'  but  hard  work — most  of  it  nights  and  Sundays. 
I  s'pose  Doman  handed  you  a  lot  of  bull  about  promotion, 
too.  Well,  you  want  to  forget  that  stuff.  They  give  the 
same  line  of  talk  to  every  new  guy,  so's  he'll  work  himself 
to  death  for  them. 

"Look  at  me!"  He  struck  his  narrow  chest  with  his  fist. 
"I  been  with  Curran's  for  fifteen  years — chief  window- 
dresser  for  the  last  ten.  Two  raises  since  they  made  me 
chief.    Promotion!     Rewardin'  merit  1     Pooh!    They  know 


n6  THE  GROPER 

I'm  the  best  window  man  in  the  city,  so  they  keep  me  doin* 
that.  They  wouldn't  give  me  a  chance  at  something  bet- 
ter— no,  you  can  bet  your  sweet  life  they  wouldn't.  So 
take  my  tip,  young  fellow — and  don't  let  'em  kid  you." 

This  was  disheartening  news,  especially  after  Doman's 
ruddy  optimism;  yet  it  had  the  ring  of  truth.  Lee  remem- 
bered the  "hot  air"  dispensed  so  copiously  at  the  Security 
Realty  Company's  Saturday  meetings.  It  must  be  the  same 
in  every  business.  All  employers  "kidded"  their  workers 
into  frantic  endeavor  by  promising  speedy  promotion. 

"But  how  do  the  big  fellows  land  their  jobs?"  he  be- 
thought himself  to  ask. 

"Pull,"  vouchsafed  Freytag  briefly.  "That's  all— pull. 
Every  one  of  'em  is  either  a  relative  of  old  man  Curran,  or 
else  has  some  other  drag  with  him.  Look  at  young  Pete 
Curran,  Joe  Curran's  son.  He's  secretary  and  treasurer. 
D'  you  think  anybody  else  has  got  a  look-in  to  take  his 
job  away  from  him?" 

Lee  came  down  to  cases.    "How  about  Mr.  Doman?" 

"I  don't  know  just  what  his  pull  is,"  admitted  Freytag. 
"Some  one  told  me  once  he  had  something  on  the  old  man, 
and  the  old  man  had  to  give  him  a  good  job  to  keep  his 
mouth  shut." 

They  returned  to  Freytag's  desk,  and  the  chief  window- 
decorator  looked  speculatively  through  a  card  index. 

"I  was  just  figurin'  where  to  start  you.  I  want  to  keep 
you  away  from  the  departments  that  are  goin'  to  features 
sales  this  next  few  weeks."  He  withdrew  a  card.  "I  guess 
men's  clothing  is  as  good  as  anything,"  he  decided.  "That's 
a  good  straight  line.    No  fancy  stuff." 

He  made  a  memorandum  on  the  card  and  replaced  it. 
"First  you  go  to  Lorimer,  the  buyer  of  the  men's  clothing 
department;  or  if  he's  out  of  town,  to  Mr.  Ladue,  the  as- 
sistant buyer.  Talk  the  thing  over  with  them;  see  what 
particular  stuff  they  want  to  feature;  help  'em  select  maybe 


THE  GROPER  117 

a  dozen  suits  and  overcoats  with  colors  that  don't  kill 
each  other.  Pick  up  a  few  gloves  and  hats — maybe  some 
shoes  and  canes,  if  you  think  best.  All  this  small  stuff  fills 
in  pretty  good,  I  find.  Wednesday  morning,  you  can  give 
me  an  idea  of  what  you're  plannin',  and  Wednesday  night 
we'll  put  it  in.  See  if  you  can't  think  up  something  pretty 
snappy." 

Lee  left  the  store  at  half-past  five  that  night  in  the  same 
excited  frame  of  mind  that  had  been  his  constant  companion 
since  Mrs.  Curran's  limousine  had  stopped  in  the  street 
ahead  of  him.  His  work  was  going  to  be  really  interesting, 
and  he  felt  a  quiet  confidence  in  his  ability  to  do  it  success- 
fully. Most  pleasant  of  all,  he  was  enjoying  to  the  utmost 
his  new  feeling  of  self-reliance — the  grateful  sensation  of 
being  self-supporting. 

True,  Harry  Freytag's  pessimism  had  left  its  mark.  He 
was  prepared  to  discount  Mr.  Doman's  hints  of  better 
things.  But  it  was  quite  enough  for  his  happiness  to  be 
earning  twenty-five  dollars  a  week — to  be  spared  the  humili- 
ation of  returning  to  Chatham. 

Bob  Hamilton  appeared  at  the  boarding  house  looking 
woebegone. 

"What's  up?"  asked  Lee. 

Bob's  tell-tale  lower  lip  started  to  quiver.  "Lost  my  job," 
he  announced.  "Managing  editor  told  me  they  were  going 
to  cut  out  suburban  and  he  wouldn't  need  me  after  this 
week." 

"Tough  luck!"  condoled  Lee  with  genuine  sympathy. 
"Something's  sure  to  turn  up  for  you,  though.  Maybe  you'll 
land  a  better  job." 

Bob  wagged  his  head  dolefully.  "I  don't  know.  None  of 
the  other  papers  need  anybody.  Maybe  I'm  just  destined 
to  be  a  failure.  I  don't  see  why  I'm  not  a  success.  I  work 
hard  enough." 


;n8  THE  GROPER 

At  the  rooms,  Lee  found  two  letters.  One  was  from  his 
mother. 

"My  Darling  Boy"  [she  wrote] — "I  can't  tell  you  how 
overjoyed  I  am  by  your  success.  I  knew  it  would  come  if 
I  kept  on  praying  to  the  Lord.  Mrs.  Curran  must  be  a 
splendid  woman,  from  what  you  say. 

"Can't  you  come  home  next  Saturday?  It  seems  years 
since  you  went  away,  and  I  feel  lonesome  for  a  sight  of  you." 

He  felt  the  tears  coming  into  his  eyes.  What  a  brick  his 
mother  had  been!  He  vowed  that  he  would  make  her  old 
age  supremely  happy.  He  wondered  if  he  could  visit  her 
this  next  week-end.  At  the  thought  of  Chatham,  his  heart 
sank  a  little — then  he  remembered  that  Vera  no  longer  lived 
there;  that  this  very  day  she  had  become  Mrs.  Milo  Hig- 
ginson. 


T 


XIV 

HE  other  letter  was  from  Mrs.  Curran. 


"I  am    enclosing   an  extra    ticket  for   the  orchestral 
concert  next   week"  [she   wrote],  "in  the  hope  that  you 
may  be  able  to  use  it. 

"Please  do  not  postpone  your  dinner  call  too  long.  I 
shall  be  very  much  interested  in  hearing  your  impressions 
of  the  new  work. 

"Cordially  your  friend, 

"Laura  L.  Curran." 

Lee  was  conscious  of  a  subtle,  intense  pleasure  as  he 
read  this  note.  Reflexively,  his  self-esteem  mounted  high. 
She  had  signed  the  note,  "Cordially  your  friend."  His 
friend!  This  splendid  woman,  this  leader  of  "Society/'  this 
person  of  wealth  and  influence,  had  found  him  socially  at- 
tractive. There  was  no  predicting  what  such  a  friendship 
might  do  for  him.  It  opened  out  alluring  possibilities  in  the 
store — even  in  "Society,"  perhaps. 

The  next  noon,  he  telephoned  her  from  the  store. 

"I  have  been  wanting  to  call  you  up  ever  since  Thurs- 
day," he  confessed.  "But  I  thought  perhaps  I'd  better  wait 
until  I  had  something  definite  to  say." 

"I  was  only  worried  that  you  might  think  me  a  little  in- 
delicate," said  Mrs.  Curran.  "I  don't  usually  have  to  urge 
people  to  come  and  see  me." 

Again  the  tone  of  timidity,  which  had  so  surprised  Lee 
before. 

"How  are  you  getting  on?"  she  asked.  "And  when  are 
you  coming  up  to  tell  me  all  about  it?" 

"I'll  be  delighted  to  come  any  night,"  said  Lee. 

"Let  me  see,"  she  reflected.     "I'm  terribly  afraid  I'm 

119 


120  THE  GROPER 

filled  up  for  the  week — that  is,  unless  you  happen  to  have 
to-night  free." 

"That  would  be  splendid,"  acquiesced  Lee  eagerly. 

The  evening  was  again  an  unalloyed  delight.  Mrs.  Cur- 
ran  seemed  more  wonderful,  more  perfect,  to  him  than  ever; 
and,  filtering  through  the  conventionalities  on  which  she  re- 
lied mostly  for  conversation,  he  saw  irrefragable  evidences 
that  she  really  liked  him. 

It  was  a  curious  combination  of  causes  that  produced  in 
Lee  this  emotion  of  near-worship  of  Mrs.  Curran.  He  was 
far  from  being  mercenary  in  his  motives.  The  fact  that  her 
favor  could  work  wonders  for  him  at  the  store  had  sur- 
prisingly little  to  do  with  his  feeling  toward  her. 

He  really  liked  her  immensely.  They  seemed  to  agree 
so  remarkably  on  most  subjects.  A  genuine  mental  telep- 
athy developed  between  them;  they  could  catch  each  other's 
most  elusive  meanings.  Lee  often  knew  what  Mrs.  Curran 
was  about  to  say  before  she  spoke. 

Add  to  this  his  sincere  gratefulness.  She  had  rescued 
him  from  the  mire  of  despair.  She  had  been  kind  to  him 
— disinterestedly  kind. 

But  these  creditable  appreciations  of  his  hardly  sufficed 
to  account  for  the  nebulous  aureole  in  which  she  stood 
transfigured  for  him.  There  were  certain  subtle  subconscious 
forces  at  work  in  him,  which  he  did  not  completely  identify 
till  long  afterwards.  For  one  thing,  he  had  an  undefined 
obsession  that  she  was  a  person  infinitely  superior  to  him- 
self. Her  wealth,  her  culture,  her  lofty  social  standing: 
all  contrived  to  set  her  apart  from  other  people  of  his  ken, 
to  limn  her  in  outlines  almost  supernal.  But  with  this  recog- 
nition came  another,  equally  vague  instinct — the  desire  to  be 
on  intimate  terms  with  such  a  one.  Familiarity  with  a 
superior  person  is  a  feather  in  one's  cap.  Thus,  the  fresh- 
man glows  when  the  senior  calls  him  by  his  first  name,  the 
negro  porter  when  his  "boss"  throws  him  an  easy  nod  of 


THE  GROPER  121 

recognition  on  the  street.  Lee  craved  Mrs.  Curran's  ap- 
proval, because  that  approval  made  him  a  more  worthy  per- 
son in  his  own  eyes.  And  so  her  obvious  liking  for  him, 
her  deference  to  his  opinions,  her  sympathy  with  his  hard- 
ships, served  as  an  intense  and  subtle  flattery  to  him — 
the  more  so,  because  he  identified  his  whole  feeling  toward 
her  as  gratitude  and  admiration. 

"I  can't  see  why  you  should  ever  have  thought  poorly  of 
yourself,"  said  the  great  lady.  "You  don't  appreciate  your 
abilities.  I  don't  want  to  be  personal,  but  it's  very  evident 
to  me  that  you're  an  unusual  man.  You're  very  attractive 
— no,  I  don't  mean  it  as  flattery  at  all — and  you  possess  that 
rare  quality,  intelligence — or  better,  flair." 

Lee  vibrated  with  an  ecstasy  that  was  almost  painful. 
And  somehow,  her  appreciation  of  him  made  him  worship 
her  the  more  ardently. 

"Oh,  by  the  way,"  recollected  Mrs.  Curran,  as  he  was 
preparing  to  go.  "Where  were  you  when  you  telephoned 
me  this  noon?" 

Lee  looked  his  mild  bewilderment  at  the  question.  "Why 
— at  the  store — in  the  office." 

"It's  nothing,"  she  reassured  him.  "But  perhaps,  if  you 
should  call  me  again,  you'd  better  go  to  a  'phone  outside 
the  store.  Some  of  the  people  in  the  office  might  get  the 
idea  that  I  was  using  my  influence  to  promote  you,  and 
that  might  antagonise  them  against  you.    We  don't  like  to 

have  the  employes  suspect  any  favoritism.     Besides " 

Mrs.  Curran  hesitated,  her  black,  compelling  eyes  fixed 
thoughtfully  on  him. 

"Yes?"  encouraged  Lee  after  an  instant's  silence. 

Mrs.  Curran's  instinct  toward  frankness  seemed  to  van- 
quish her  sense  of  discretion.  "I  think  I  can  afford  to  be 
perfectly  candid  with  you.  Our  friendship — at  least,  I  look 
on  it  as  a  friendship— is  a  little  unusual.  To  me,  it  has  the 
possibilities  of  becoming  a  fine  and  spiritual  thing,  but 


122  THE  GROPER 

when  an  older  woman  and  a  younger  man  see  a  great  deal 
of  each  other — you  know,  I  am  quite  a  lot  older  than  you — 
well,  some  people  are  always  ready  to  say  nasty  things." 
She  threw  out  her  hands  with  a  gesture  that  seemed  pa- 
thetic to  Lee. 

His  cheeks  grew  hot  at  the  monstrous  idea.  "I  don't  see 
how  anybody  would  dare!" 

A  look,  almost  triumphant,  appeared  in  her  vivid,  slightly 
oblique  eyes.  "I  knew  you  were  that  sort  of  a  man."  She 
held  out  her  hand  impulsively.  "We'll  be  good  friends  in 
spite  of  them,  won't  we?  At  the  same  time,  let's  not  take 
any  chances  of  having  our  friendship  traduced  by  vulgar- 
minded  people." 

Lee's  mood  was  heroic,  protective.  "I'd  be  proud  to  have 
the  whole  world  know  of  it." 

"That's  splendid!"  said  Mrs.  Curran — a  little  absent- 
mindedly,  it  seemed.  "But  let's  not  fly  against  convention 
as  long  as  we  don't  have  to.    It's  uncomfortable." 

Lee  caught  the  note  of  finality  in  her  voice.  "All  right," 
he  agreed  a  trifle  lamely.  But  he  could  not  long  remain 
undramatic.  "Good  night,  friend,"  he  said  with  preten- 
tious gravity. 

Mrs.  Curran  regarded  him  searchingly,  as  if  to  reassure 
herself  as  to  his  worth,  then  closed  her  eyes. 

"Good  night,  friend,"  she  whispered.  She  opened  her  eyes 
and  smiled  half-apologetically.    "Come  soon!" 

Lee's  friendship  with  Mrs.  Curran  grew  apace;  became 
the  important  thing  in  his  life — more  absorbing  even  than 
his  work  at  the  store.  Throughout  the  spring  and  into  the 
early  summer,  he  called  as  often  as  three  or  four  times  a 
week.  Sunday  dinner  was  the  one  fixed  occasion;  and  ordi- 
narily, he  would  remain  throughout  the  afternoon  and  eve- 
ning. 

Neither  of  them  seemed  to  tire  of  the  other's  talk.  Occa- 
sionally they  read  aloud.     They  became  well  enough  ac- 


THE  GROPER  123 

quainted  so  that  even  silences  passed  unnoticed.  At  rare 
intervals,  usually  at  night,  when  they  were  in  front  of  the 
fireplace,  Mrs.  Curran  gave  him  brief  intimations  about 
herself.  He  gathered  that  there  had  been  an  unhappy  love 
affair  just  before  her  wedding;  that  she  had  married  Tom 
Curran  in  a  mood  of  defiance;  and  that  their  life  together 
had  never  reached  noteworthy  heights. 

Once,  Lee  reached  over  and  patted  her  hand.  It  was  a 
daring  thing  to  do,  he  thought;  yet  it  was  in  keeping  with 
the  finest  spirit  of  their  friendship.  Mrs.  Curran's  fingers 
closed  over  his  for  a  moment.  4 

His  attitude  toward  her  remained  consistently  high- 
minded.  Their  friendship  seemed  wholly  spiritual  to  him — 
the  wonderful  congeniality  and  sympathy  of  two  souls.  He 
never  thought  of  her  as  a  woman,  particularly— nor  of  her 
age. 

To  him  one  of  her  greatest  charms  was  the  occasional 
flavor  of  worldly  wisdom  that  crept  into  her  conversation. 
One  night,  for  example,  they  were  talking  about  his  work  at 
the  store. 

"If  trying  hard — doing  my  level  best  every  day — counts 
for  anything,  I'm  surely  going  to  succeed,"  he  said.  "I  don't 
believe  there's  a  man  in  the  store  who's  working  more  faith- 
fully than  I  am." 

Mrs.  Curran  regarded  him  quizzi|ally.    "Curran  &  Com- 
pany is  overcrowded  with  men  who  are  faithful  workers—; 
and  nothing  more." 
Lee  turned  toward  her  in  his  half-affronted  way.   "Yes— - 

but " 

"Oh,  I'm  not  saying  that  faithfulness  isn't  a  good  qual- 
ity," she  took  him  up.  "But  you'll  never  lift  yourself  out 
of  the  ruck  simply  by  being  faithful.  The  thing  that  gives 
you  a  better  chance  than  all  the  plodders  is  your  person- 
ality." 


124  THE  GROPER 

This  doctrine  seemed  near-heresy,  and  Lee's  expressive 
face  revealed  the  fact. 

Mrs.  Curran  smiled.  "That's  the  fallacy  so  many  fine 
men  like  you  handicap  themselves  with.  Particularly  young 
college  men.  You  all  seem  to  think  that  life  is  logical, 
foreseeable.  Like  mathematics,  for  example,  or  good  ma- 
chinery. A  matter  of  a  few  simple  rules.  A  mental  prob- 
lem. It  puzzles  you  when  you  put  the  coin  of  conscientious 
effort  in  the  slot  marked  'Success' — and  lo  and  behold!  Fail- 
ure drops  out." 

She  lighted  the  one  after-dinner  cigaret  she  permitted 
herself — this  had  been  a  real  shock  to  Lee  at  first — and 
gazed  into  the  fire,  a  look  of  puzzled  captivation  in  her  face, 
the  half-smile  still  on  her  lips. 

"You  never  can  understand  that  life  is  haphazard,  blind, 
accidental — a  crawling,  sprawling  mass,  full  of  weird,  un- 
analysable forces.  Take  personality,  for  example.  A  lazy 
man  with  real  personality  will  far  outstrip  the  conscientious 
plodder.  It's  because  people  like  you  that  they  do  things 
for  you — not  because  they  admire  your  character.  Mere 
brains  will  only  take  you  part  way.  The  really  big  men 
in  the  world  aren't  usually  the  brainy  men.  They're  the 
men  with  that  mysterious  thing  we  call  force.  They  get 
what  they  want  in  some  uncanny  way.  Most  of  them  have 
luck,  too." 

Another  puff.  "You  have  personality,  and  you  ought  to 
appreciate  it  and  use  it.  The  faithful  bookkeepers  and  ribbon 
Salesmen  down  at  the  store  might  struggle  for  your  person- 
ality all  their  lives  and  never  acquire  it.  One  must  be  born 
with  it.  So  take  my  advice,  and  cultivate  your  personality. 
It'll  open  every  door  for  you.  Remember,  a  man  makes 
more  money  by  his  nerve  than  by  his  brains  nowadays." 

Lee's  idealisation  of  Mrs.  Curran  waxed  more  and  more 
Intense  as  summer  approached.  By  this  time,  it  is  true, 
his  earlier,  self-conscious  awe  of  her  had  entirely  disap- 


THE  GROPER  125 

peared.  He  had  not  forgotten  that  her  influence  was  suffi- 
cient to  make  or  break  him  at  the  store;  that  her  position 
in  the  world  was  enormously  out  of  his  reach.  But  with 
Mrs.  Curran,  personally,  he  no  longer  felt  constraint.  Their 
friendship  was  entirely  beyond  any  differences  in  their  tem- 
poral circumstances.  His  unsuspected  vanity,  his  determi- 
nation to  protect  her  from  any  vicious  insinuations  about 
their  friendship,  his  admiration  for  her  refinement,  and  their 
remarkable  mental  affinity,  all  served  to  attract  him  more 
and  more.  Besides,  he  really  liked  her — felt  strongly  drawn 
to  her. 

One  noon,  while  he  was  scanning  a  collection  of  French 
Impressionistic  paintings  at  the  Art  Museum,  he  suddenly 
came  upon  Mrs.  Curran.  She  was  disputing  earnestly  over 
some  picture  with  a  young  man  in  a  morning  coat,  who 
looked  as  though  he  might  be  an  artist  or  musician.  Lee 
was  appalled  at  the  pang  of  dismay  that  ran  through  him. 
Mrs.  Curran  spoke  graciously  to  him;  even  made  as  if  to 
shake  hands.  But  he  feigned  not  to  notice  and  hurried 
into  another  gallery. 

The  incident  served  to  heighten  his  feelings  toward  her. 
He  realised  vaguely  that  he  had  come  to  care  a  great  deal 
for  her — not  in  any  silly,  banal  way,  of  course,  but  as  he 
might  care  for  a  man,  for  example.  He  was  conscious  of 
a  great,  consuming  devotion  such  as  one  intimate  friend 
might  feel  for  another. 

Early  in  June,  Mrs.  Curran  began  to  make  plans  for 
leaving  town.  She  always  summered,  she  said,  in  Maine. 
The  prospect  of  not  seeing  her  for  three  months  was  thor- 
oughly depressing  to  him. 

The  last  Sunday  evening  before  her  departure,  they  were 
sitting  out-of-doors,  on  a  screened  side  porch  that  opened 
out  from  the  drawing  room  through  a  window. 

The  minutes  sped  by.  Lee  became  more  and  more  suf- 
fused with  exalted  emotion. 


126  THE  GROPER 

"Isn't  it  odd  that  this  friendship  should  have  sprung  up 
between  us?"  Mrs.  Curran  remarked.  "It's  so  unusual,  so 
unconventional.  Yet  it's  perfectly  vital,  and  entirely  sin- 
cere." 

"I  don't  think  it's  so  odd,"  he  demurred.  "To  me  it  seems 
the  most  natural  thing  in  the  world — and  the  most  beau- 
tiful." 

"Anyway,  I  want  you  to  know  how  much  it  has  meant 
to  me,  Lee." 

All  at  once  the  night  seemed  to  become  very  still. 

Lee  gulped  hard.  "Well,"  he  faltered,  "I  can't  describe 
how  I  feel  toward  you.  I'd  do  anything  in  the  world  for 
you."  He  determined  upon  a  frank  revelation.  "It  seems 
to  me  I  might  say  I  love  you — not  in  any  cheap  way,  of 
course — not  in  the  way  base-minded  people  might  think. 
You  can  understand.  A  fine  spiritual  love,  such  as  any  two 
intimate  friends  might  feel." 

His  heart  choked  his  throat.  He  was  in  torturous  sus- 
pense lest  he  should  have  overstepped  the  bounds. 

Mrs.  Curran  remained  silent.    After  a  moment,  she  rose. 

"I'm  awfully  sorry "  he  began. 

She  held  up  a  restraining  hand.  "I  understand  you,  dear 
boy,"  she  whispered. 

She  held  her  hand  out,  and  he  seized  it.  Then  he  realised 
that  she  was  trembling. 

"It's  all  right,"  she  said,  and  smiled  up  at  him.  "I  think 
we  must  be  going  in.  I  have  a  great  deal  to  do  to-mor- 
row." 

Through  the  darkness,  she  looked  vaguely  youthful. 

She  took  a  step  toward  the  open  window,  the  sill  of  which 
was  set  awkwardly  some  fifteen  inches  above  the  floor  of  the 
porch. 

Lee  smiled  back  at  her  in  a  sudden  exuberant  relief  that 
she  had  not  misunderstood. 

She  extended  her  hand  again,  so  that  he  might  steady 


THE  GROPER  127 

her  as  she  stepped  up  on  the  sill.  An  inexplicable  impulse 
possessed  him;  he  swung  her  up  in  his  arms  and  carried 
her  through  the  window  into  the  half-light  of  the  drawing 
room  inside. 

He  heard  her  give  a  little  gasp. 

"Put  me  down!"  she  whispered. 

The  sense  of  his  strength,  the  exhilaration  of  his  daring 
bade  him  defy  her  command  an  instant  longer.  He  laughed. 
Suddenly,  Mrs.  Curran  put  her  head  down  on  his  shoulder 
much  as  a  tired  child  might. 

He  set  her  down  after  a  moment.  He  was  conscious  of 
pride,  of  successful  achievement.  But  Mrs.  Curran  clung 
to  his  arm  tightly,  with  upturned  face  and  closed  eyes. 

Lee  became  instinctively  aware  that  something  more  was 
expected  of  him.  He  had  cast  himself  in  a  certain  role;  now 
he  must  live  up  to  it,  or  prove  disappointing.  He  put  his 
arm  around  her  and  kissed  her.  But  he  no  longer  had  the 
sense  of  daring  initiative. 

"My  darling! "  she  whispered  tensely  in  his  ear.  Her  out- 
stretched fingers  caressed  his  back. 

The  intimations  of  the  situation  continued  to  filtrate 
through  his  swirling  brain,  and  he  reached  over  to  the  near- 
by standing  lamp  and  switched  it  off. 

Later  on,  there  came  to  him  the  fine,  hair-line  perception 
that  somehow  things  had  not  turned  out  at  all  as  he  ex- 
pected. 


XV 

THROUGHOUT  the  spring,  Lee  had  been  devoting 
himself  conscientiously  to  his  work  at  Curran  & 
Company's  department  store. 

His  first  window-display  of  men's  clothing  was  undeniably 
crude.    It  lacked  atmosphere. 

"It's  the  composition,"  Freytag  decided  briefly.  He 
shifted  an  overcoat  farther  to  one  side,  and  behold!  the 
effect  for  which  Lee  had  been  striving  stood  accomplished. 

Freytag  insisted,  too,  on  putting  in  more  suits  and  over- 
coats. 

"Loads  too  empty,"  he  explained. 

On  this  point,  Lee  silently  disagreed.  And  as  long  as 
he  remained  under  Freytag,  there  persisted  this  tacit  con- 
test between  them  as  to  the  number  of  articles  that  win- 
dow-displays should  include.  The  chief  decorator  preferred 
ornate  displays,  moreover;  while  Lee  from  the  first  instinc- 
tively chose  simplicity. 

But  Lee's  taste,  his  sense  of  color  values,  his  ability  to 
devise  effective  backgrounds,  developed  fast.  He  studied 
the  show-windows  of  other  stores;  he  visited  his  former 
haunt,  the  public  library,  and  read  avidly  the  few  books 
that  dealt  with  window-trimming.  Freytag  soon  gave  him 
charge  of  the  men's  furnishings,  boy's  clothing,  and  toilet 
articles  departments — and  under  supervision,  women's  suits 
and  coats.  When  he  had  any  spare  time,  he  tried  his  hand, 
not  very  successfully,  at  card-writing. 

As  Lee's  consciousness  of  ability  grew,  he  began  suggest- 
ing alterations.  His  chief  complaint  concerned  itself  with 
the  system  of  illuminating  the  displays.    It  seemed  to  him 

128 


THE  GROPER  125 

that  the  electric  lights  should  be  concealed  in  some  wa$ 
irom  the  eyes  of  pedestrians. 

"A  window  is  just  like  a  stage,"  he  contended.  "You 
never  see  the  footlights  an  a  theatre." 

Freytag  was  lethargic.  It  would  require  expensive  ancj 
troublesome  repairs  to  change  the  lights. 

"We'll  have  to  come  to  it  sooner  or  later,"  argued  Leek 
"Look  at  Fordyce,  Miller  &  Company's  indirect  lighting 
system.    It's  much  more  effective  and  restful  than  ours." 

Lee  also  proposed  discontinuing  the  use  of  manikins  foi 
displaying  men's  suits. 

"What  I  want  is  a  plain  prmel  background  of  oak  01 
imitation  mahogany — and  display  racks  to  match.  Suiti 
and  overcoats  look  much  better,  dressed  on  a  rack,  than 
they  do  on  a  dummy.  It's  the  same  with  women's  coats, 
and  perhaps  suits,  too.  You  can  get  a  certain  richness  of 
effect." 

But  Freytag  held  out  for  manikins.  He  believed  the  new 
vogue  of  discarding  them  would  not  last  permanently. 

Lee's  suggestions  were  becoming  very  irritating  to  the 
chief  window-trimmer,  it  seemed. 

"I'm  the  boss  in  this  department,"  he  would  say.  "Don't 
go  round  thinkin'  up  a  lot  of  unnecessary  changes.  Just 
do  things  my  way." 

As  best  he  could,  nevertheless,  Lee  continued  to  study  the 
problem  of  getting  the  maximum  of  novel  and  artistic  effect 
out  of  his  windows.  His  displays  began  to  attract  some 
slight  attention.  Once  or  twice,  Mr.  Doman  took  pains  to 
congratulate  him. 

With  Lee's  increasing  success,  Freytag  became  openly 
jealous.  The  chief  trimmer  announced  that  thereafter  all 
displays  must  be  inspected  by  him  before  they  were  ex- 
hibited. This  plan  gave  -him  opportunity  for  considerable 
petty  bullying.  He  never  failed  to  destroy  the  carefully  con- 
trived effectiveness  of  Lee's  work.    If  a  display  revealed 


[130  THE  GROPER 

any  genuine  originality,  he  would  usually  keep  his  assistant 
until  midnight,  insisting  on  a  reconstruction  of  the  exhibit 
along  conservative  lines. 

Despite  these  annoyances,  Lee  found  the  work  of  con- 
suming interest.  He  never  quite  lost  the  viewpoint  that 
Howard  Doman  had  given  him  in  the  beginning:  the  per- 
ception of  the  romance  of  the  thing.  He  saturated  his 
mind  with  the  idea  that  it  was  all  great  fun — an  imaginative, 
aesthetic  pleasure  of  the  finest  sort. 

Often  he  would  wander  aimlessly  through  the  store,  keep- 
ing himself  sensitive  to  the  confusion,  the  noise,  the  un- 
quenchable activity.  More  frequently,  he  would  take  his 
stand  on  the  mezzanine  balcony  that  hedged  two  sides  of 
the  ground  floor,  preferably  about  four  o'clock  in  the  after- - 
noon,  the  busiest  time  of  the  day.  From  this  vantage  point, 
he  could  bring  almost  the  entire  first  floor  under  his  vision. 
His  eye  would  pick  up  the  familiar  details:  the  aisles 
choked  with  hundreds  of  people;  the  show  cases  and  count- 
ers disorderly  with  mussed-up  merchandise;  scores  of  clerks, 
men  and  women,  some  energetic,  some  languidly  indiffer- 
ent; numerous  stunted-looking  children — cash-boys  and 
cash-girls.  Everywhere  an  insatiable,  restless  flux  of  hu- 
manity. A  thousand  waves  of  sound,  combining  into  one 
vast  sea  of  noise;  the  shrill  cries  of  saleswomen  calling 
"Cash  Girl!"  rising  intermittently  like  wave-crests. 

He  liked  to  fancy  the  significance  of  all  this  babel  and 
bustle.  There  was  subtle  method  even  in  the  arrangement 
of  the  various  departments.  Near  the  doors  were  the  lux- 
uries: jewelry,  toilet  goods,  leather  novelties,  cameras,  and 
the  more  expensive  haberdashery.  Everybody  must  pass 
these  inviting  displays  in  order  to  reach  the  "notions"  and 
such  staples  as  handkerchiefs,  hosiery,  men's  shirts  and  un- 
derwear. The  elevators  were  as  far  from  the  entrances  as 
possible.     On  the  upper  floors  were  men's  and  women's 


THE  GROPER  131 

clothing  of  all  sorts,  furniture,  carpets,  dry  goods  and  count- 
less other  necessaries. 

Lee  felt  a  consummate  interest  merely  in  watching  the 
sluggish  flow  of  humanity  through  the  narrow  aisles.  Down 
on  the  floor,  most  of  the  people  were  sordid-looking;  but 
from  the  balcony,  he  could  revel  in  an  Olympian  viewpoint. 
He  searched  his  mind  for  a  descriptive  phrase. 

The  Romance  of  Barter!    That  was  it. 

One  afternoon  in  May,  he  stood  looking  down  on  the 
black  throngs  below.  A  hosiery  sale  was  being  featured,  and 
women  besieged  the  counters  four-deep.  It  amused  Lee  to 
pick  out  the  two  women  detectives  who  loitered  casually  in 
the  vicinity. 

He  felt  a  hand  on  his  shoulder,  and  discovered  Howard 
Doman  at  his  side. 

"Listening  to  the  Overtones?"  the  advertising  manager 
asked  with  his  characteristic  smile. 

Lee  made  some  affirmative  answer.  For  a  moment,  they 
watched  the  crowds  in  silence. 

Abruptly,  Doman's  mood  became  practical.  He  turned 
his  keen  alive  eyes  upon  Lee. 

"If  you  were  general  manager  of  this  store,  what  changes 
would  you  make?" 

Lee  meditated.  "Well,  in  the  first  place,  I'd  certainly  try 
to  get  more  floor-space  some  way.  It's  not  only  dangerous 
to  pack  people  together  like  that,  it's  poor  business.  A  lot 
of  them  will  give  up  in  despair.  Secondly,  I'd  insist  on 
order.  The  merchandise  always  looks  mussy,  it  seems  to 
me.    Of  course  that's  largely  due  to  the  lack  of  space." 

Doman  nodded  his  acquiescence.  "How  about  the  store 
organisation?    Would  you  change  that?" 

"I  don't  know  much  about  the  organisation,"  Lee  set  forth 
somewhat  uncertainly.  "But  I  do  know  this:  your  sales- 
people are  only  about  50  per  cent,  efficient.  A  lot  of  them 
are  lazy,  and  a  lot  half-sick.     Some  with  tuberculosis,  I 


132  THE  GROPER 

should  say.  And  the  whole  force  is  honeycombed  with 
dissatisfaction,  jealousy,  irritation.  Their  general  idea  is 
that  they're  underpaid  and  imposed  on,  and  that  the  proper 
come-back  on  the  firm  is  to  do  as  little  as  possible.  Talk 
about  having  fun  with  one's  job!  I  don't  believe  a  single 
salesman  in  the  store  gets  any  pleasure  out  of  his  work." 

"Very  true,"  said  Doman  with  unusual  seriousness.  "It's 
in  the  very  atmosphere,  and  I'm  surprised  it  isn't  fatal  to 
the  business.  Well," — he  turned  away — "perhaps  we'll  have 
the  chance  of  changing  it  some  day." 

Lee  had  been  conscious  for  a  long  time  of  this  sullen, 
inimical  spirit  among  the  employees.  Freytag  never  missed 
an  opportunity  of  sneering  at  the  idea  that  merit  was  re- 
warded in  the  Curran  store.  Preferment  came  solely 
through  "pull"  or  even  less  creditable  causes,  he  insisted  over 
and  over  again. 

In  the  case  of  Freytag,  Lee  wasn't  at  all  certain  that 
justice  had  not  been  done.  The  chief  window-trimmer 
was  a  faithful  worker  and  he  had  been  with  the  Company 
for  fifteen  years — ten  years  without  promotion.  On  the 
other  hand,  Freytag  was  a  "knocker";  he  was  uniformly 
petulant;  and  it  was  more  than  doubtful  if  he  had  the  edu- 
cation to  make  good  in  a  better  position.  But  Lee  had 
gradually  become  acquainted  with  a  number  of  the  em- 
ployes, and  every  one  of  them  cherished  this  same  obses- 
sion against  the  firm. 

"They  pay  us  just  as  little  as  they  can,"  was  the  way 
complaints  ran.  "So  why  should  we  break  our  backs  for 
them?  Promotion?  Wait  till  you've  been  here  a  few  years 
and  seen  what  chance  merit  has  against  pull.  Wait  till 
you've  seen  new  men  boosted  over  your  head  a  few  times 
just  because  they're  relatives  of  old  Curran  or  have  some 
drag  with  him.  Then  you'll  see  it  isn't  any  use,  and  you'll 
do  just  like  we  do — soldier  on  the  job  all  you  can." 

All  this  was  very  demoralising  to  Lee.    In  the  face  of 


THE  GROPER  133 

these  seemingly  justified  grievances,  Howard  Doman's  fine 
theories  melted  away  like  thin  vapor.  He  began  to  look 
about  him  more  closely.  The  three  real  powers  in  the  store 
were  Michael  Curran,  the  president  and  general  manager; 
his  nephew,  Peter  Curran,  who  was  secretary  and  treasurer, 
in  spite  of  his  apparent  incompetence;  and  Harrison  Esta- 
brook,  a  young  society  man  who  had  married  Michael  Cur- 
ran's  niece,  and  who  now  held  the  position  of  store  super- 
intendent. And  so  on  down  the  line.  There  was  some  such 
explanation  for  every  man  who  had  a  good  job;  they  were 
either  relatives  or  intimate  friends  of  the  Curran  family. 
Howard  Doman  was  the  one  puzzling  exception.  Every  one 
admitted  his  transcendent  ability  as  an  advertising  manager; 
Lee  even  heard  occasional  assertions  that  Doman  really  de- 
served to  be  at  the  head  of  the  business:  but  none  of  the 
employes  would  admit  that  Doman  had  won  his  place 
through  sheer  merit.  Various  vague  rumors  were  current 
that  he  had  some  mysterious  hold  on  old  Michael  Curran. 

The  most  startling  explanation  proceeded  from  a  rheumy- 
eyed,  affected  young  man  named  Barker,  who  was  stock 
clerk  in  the  men's  clothing  department.  Lee's  work  threw 
him  into  frequent  contact  with  Barker,  and  they  became 
fairly  well  acquainted.  The  stock  clerk  had  an  air  of  being 
"wise"  to  every  smallest  detail  in  the  store;  and  from  time 
to  time  he  gave  Lee,  "in  strictest  confidence,  you  know," 
various  salacious  details  about  the  heads  of  the  business, 
and  more  frequently,  about  the  morals  of  certain  salesgirls. 
Barker  had  worked  his  way  up  from  a  cash-boy's  job;  but 
he  was  virulent  in  his  belief  that  merit  counted  for  nothing. 

Lee  mentioned  Doman. 

"Howard  Doman?"  Barker  laughed  derisively.  v"He's  a 
good  man,  all  right,  but  no  better  than  lots  of  others."  He 
looked  around  in  his  usual  cautious  manner.  "I'll  tell  you 
about  Howard  Doman.  He  was  just  an  ordinary  salesman, 
till  Tom  Curran's  widow  happened  to  fall  for  him.    Doman 


134  THE  GROPER 

used  to  be  a  dam,  sight  more  handsome  than  he  is  now.  I 
don't  know  Mrs.  Curran — no  such  luck  for  mine! — but  they 
say  she  gobbles  men  alive! "  He  winked  suggestively. 
"Anyway  from  that  time  on,  Doman  began  to  shoot  ahead. 
He's  got  brains;  but  it  wasn't  brains  that  landed  him  his 
five-thousand-a-year  job." 

This  was  before  the  episode  of  the  side  porch.  Lee  turned 
pale  with  wrath. 

"What's  the  matter?"  demanded  Barker. 

Lee  had  a  blind  desire  to  seize  this  vile  slanderer  by  the 
throat,  and  choke  out  an  apology.  But  that  might  only 
spread  the  story.  Instead  he  walked  away  without  answer- 
ing. He  wondered  whether  he  ought  to  say  anything  to 
Mrs.  Curran  or  Doman  about  it.  In  the  end,  he  kept  silent; 
but  the  incident  served  to  heighten  his  feeling  of  protector- 
ship  over  his  good  friend. 

It  served  also  to  persuade  him  for  a  time  that  the  com- 
plainings of  the  employes  were  largely  without  foundation. 
It  was  just  an  unfounded  obsession  with  every  underling 
in  the  store  that  ambition,  effort,  brains  were  futile.  No  one 
would  believe  that  Doman,  for  example,  had  won  his  way 
up  on  his  own  abilities. 

Yet  the  disconcerting  fact  remained  that  Doman  was  the 
only  important  figure  in  the  business  who  could  be  account- 
ed for  solely  on  the  basis  of  merit.  All  of  the  others  owed 
their  preferment  to  nepotism  or  mere  personal  "pull."  Even 
Doman  was  not  on  the  board  of  directors — not  a  member  of 
the  inmost  circle  that  really  directed  the  business. 

Late  one  afternoon  in  the  early  part  of  June,  Lee  had 
gone  up  to  the  cashier's  office  to  get  his  semi-monthly  sal- 
ary. The  Curran  pay-envelope  had  heretofore  been  a  small 
affair  with  nothing  but  the  employe's  name  written  on  it. 
But  to-day  the  envelope  was  much  larger;  and  underneath 
his  name,  Lee  read  the  following  in  bold  type: 


THE  GROPER  135 

ARE  YOU  SATISFIED  WITH  YOUR  PAY? 

IF  YOU  ARE,  WE  DON'T  WANT  YOU. 

IF  YOU  AREN'T,  WE'LL  HELP  YOU  INCREASE  IT. 

"What's  all  this,  Mac?"  he  inquired  of  the  meek,  grey- 
haired  assistant-cashier. 

McPherson  winked.  "Just  some  of  Mr.  Doman's  foolish- 
ness." It  was  after  hours,  and  the  offices  were  nearly  de- 
serted.   "Come  on  in,  an'  I'll  show  you  something." 

Lee  entered  the  cashier's  office  curiously. 

The  old  assistant  cashier  pulled  out  a  long  drawer. 
"Here's  the  pay  envelopes  for  the  next  ten  weeks."  He 
picked  out  several  samples.  "Each  week,  the  printing  is  dif- 
ferent, you  see." 

Lee  glanced  over  the  envelopes.    The  first  one  read: 

YOU  INCREASE  YOUR  SALES— 
WE'LL  INCREASE  YOUR  PAY. 

Another  announced: 

CURRAN'S  DEPENDS  ON  ITS  SALESMEN- 
ITS  SALESMEN  CAN  DEPEND  ON  CURRAN'S. 

A  third— 

WE  ARE  WATCHING  DAY  AND  NIGHT  FOR  THE 

EXCEPTIONAL  SALESMAN. 

HE  CAN  NAME  HIS  OWN  FIGURE. 

CAN  YOU  BECOME  THE  EXCEPTIONAL  SALES- 
MAN? 

Still  another: 

WE  NEED  MEN  AT  THE  TOP. 

WE  SHALL  PICK  THEM  FROM  OUR  EMPLOYES. 

ARE  YOU  GOING  TO  BE  ONE  OF  THEM— 

OR  ARE  YOU  CONTENT  WITH  MEDIOCRITY? 

The  last  one — 

WE  WANT   TO    MAKE   CURRAN'S   THE   BIGGEST 
DEPARTMENT  STORE  IN  DETROIT- 
ARE  YOU  WITH  US  OR  AGAINST  US? 


*$6  THE  GROPER 

Old  McPherson  chuckled.  "Rich,  ain't  it?  Doman's 
pretty  slick.  I'll  bet  a  lot  of  new  folks  in  the  store  will  take 
it  serious.  An'  this  is  just  the  first.  Doman's  goin'  to  fire 
this  sort  of  stuff  at  'em  right  along  now,  I  hear.  He  calls 
it  his  'Success  Slogan  Series.'  " 

Lee  looked  absentmindedly  at  the  envelopes.  Oddly  their 
message  sent  a  little  thrill  of  ambition  through  him.  A 
faintly  reminiscent  thrill.  Yes,  they  sounded  very  much 
like  the  story  of  "The  Two  Paths,"  in  Fisk's  Encyclopaedia; 
or  the  Security  Realty  Company's  advertisement:  "Only 
hustler  need  apply.  Splendid  opening  for  an  ambitious 
industrious  man." 

"You  don't  take  much  stock  in  it,  Mac?"  he  suggested. 

McPherson  laughed  again — this  time  gratingly.  "I'm  no 
fool.  I've  been  with  Curran's  since  1892.  I've  given  'em 
the  best  years  of  my  life.  I've  worked  hard.  I  ain't  missed 
more  than  four  or  five  days  since  I  started.  An'  what's  it 
all  got  me?  Pay?  Dam'  little.  Promotion?  No.  They 
know  I  can't  get  a  better  job  anywheres  else,  so  why  should 
they  care?"  He  took  off  his  spectacles,  and  extended  his 
trembling  forefinger  by  way  of  emphasis.  "No,  sir,  this  stuff 
ain't  sincere,  Lee.  They  don't  mean  a  word  of  it.  They've 
said  it  before.  The  only  purpose  of  it  is  to  kid  us  into 
workin'  harder." 

Lee  found  McPherson's  argument  almost  convincing. 
"Mac"  was  a  faithful  worker  and  intelligent,  too.  Every- 
body liked  him.  And  there  were  other  faithful  old  em- 
ployes who  were  doing  exactly  the  same  work  to-day  as 
when  they  started. 

It  was  only  two  days  after  his  astonishing  experience  in 
Mrs.  Curran's  drawing  room  that  Howard  Doman  sent  for 
him. 

"Freytag's  been  complaining  about  your  work  lately." 
The  advertising  manager's  incisive  eyes  searched  his  visi- 
tor's face. 


THE  GROPER  137 

"Why  that's  the  limit,  Mr.  Doman! "  Lee  burst  out. 

Doman  listened  to  his  subordinate's  recital  of  grievances 
with  an  increasing  smile  of  comprehension. 

"I'm  not  surprised,"  he  remarked.  "Anyway,  I've  had 
my  eye  on  you  from  the  beginning.  I  think  you're  about 
ripe  for  some  copy-writing.  Perhaps  we  can  work  out  some 
interesting  advertising  ideas  together.  You  can  notify 
Freytag  at  once.  And  by  the  way — your  salary'll  be  forty 
dollars." 

Lee  was  so  overwhelmed  with  happiness  that  he  became 
inarticulate.  The  best  part  of  it  all  was  that  it  revived 
his  faith  in  the  Tightness  of  things.  He  had  tried  hard,  he 
had  kept  the  right  viewpoint  on  his  work — in  short,  he  had 
done  his  best;  and  now  he  had  his  recompense.  All  those 
grumbling  employes  were  wrong,  after  all.  The  fault  must 
be  their  own.  Curran's  certainly  did  reward  merit;  and 
life  was  a  simple  proposition — much  as  Fisk's  Encyclo- 
paedia painted  it. 

At  first,  Freytag  seemed  stunned  by  the  news  of  Lee's 
promotion;  then  an  angry  flush  crept  into  his  pasty  skin. 

"Oh,  so  that's  how  the  land  lays,  eh?"  he  sneered.  "An- 
other case  of  family  drag."    He  spat  contemptuously. 

"What  do  you  mean?"    Lee  stopped  short. 

"Don't  worry.  Everybody's  wise  to  a  certain  lady  bein' 
very  much  interested  in  you — but  no  one  knew  till  now  just 
how  much  interested." 

He  turned,  as  if  to  leave;  but  Lee  caught  him  by  the 
collar  and  swung  him  around. 

"You  damned  little  weasel! "  he  shouted.  "How  dare  you 
insinuate  such  things!"  He  drew  back  his  fist,  but  Frey- 
tag broke  away  and  ran  out  of  the  room. 

An  hour  later,  the  window-trimmer  sidled  into  Lee's  new 
office  with  a  servile  air  and  an  abject  apology.  But  it  was 
clear  that  his  motive  was  solely  economic:  he  was  afraid 
of  losing  his  job. 


138  THE  GROPER 

The  contretemps,  though,  sufficed  to  shock  Lee  into  see- 
ing the  real  truth  about  his  status  at  the  Curran  store.  Frey- 
tag  was  quite  right.  Lee  had  been  promoted,  not  because 
he  deserved  it,  but  because  Mrs.  Curran  was  in  love  with 
him. 

The  melancholy  procession  of  his  lost  illusions  began  to 
troop  through  his  mind.  Vera,  Fred  Badger,  Eberenz, 
O'Neill,  Hauxhurst.  Less  certainly,  Mrs.  Curran.  Busi- 
nesses weren't  honest.  Neither  were  men.  Merit  and  hard 
work  were  futile.  Friendships  were  hollow  shams.  To 
idealise  a  woman  was  the  superlative  folly. 

He  had  tried  to  be  fine,  high-minded — and  for  his  pains 
he  had  known  heartsickening  failure.  But  when  he  had 
been  a  little  less  fine — as  with  Mrs.  Curran — swift  success 
had  attended  him. 

Well,  the  lesson  seemed  plain. 

That  night,  it  is  on  record,  Lee  burned  Fisk's  Encyclo- 
paedia in  Mrs.  Holmes'  furnace.  He  had  been  a  fool,  a 
ninny — but  now  he  was  through  with  fatuous  ideals  about 
the  world  for  all  time. 


PART  TWO 


ONE'S  mental  viewpoint  is  hardly  to  be  readjusted  in 
a  day,  however.  Lee  found  it  difficult,  for  example, 
to  dislodge  his  ideals  of  Mrs.  Curran.  She  had  mis- 
understood him,  of  course.  She  had  preached  the  gospel  of 
impersonal  friendship  and  then  translated  his  spiritual  de- 
votion for  her  into  the  most  personal  and  passionate  of 
loves. 

At  the  time,  Lee  had  been  conscious  of  a  bemused  sur- 
prise at  the  turn  things  were  taking.  He  cherished  a  defi- 
nite persuasion  that  it  was  Mrs.  Curran's  subtle  clinging 
insistence,  and  not  any  impetuosity  on  his  own  part,  that 
had  brought  about  such  an  unforeseen  denouement.  As  he 
stole  out  of  the  side  door  of  Mrs.  Curran's  house  that  event- 
ful June  evening,  he  assuredly  felt  very  like  a  sheep,  and.not 
at  all  like  an  irresistible  Don  Juan. 

But  that  of  course  was  caddish,  he  reflected  the  next  day. 
It  had  been  his  fault  entirely — his  fault  that  he  had  given 
Mrs.  Curran  any  opportunity  to  misunderstand  him;  his 
fault  that  he  had  not  called  a  halt  at  once.  He  Was  a 
full-grown  man,  and  it  was  ridiculous  to  suppose  that  he 
had  been  forced  to  do  anything  he  hadn't  wanted  to  do. 

Indeed,  Mrs.  Curran  and  he  cared  a  great  deal  for  one 
another.  There  had  been  a  real  tenderness  of  feeling  be- 
tween them.  He  was  deeply  grateful  to  her  for  her  benefi- 
cences.   And  she  was  a  magnetic,  attractive  woman. 

139 


140  THE  GROPER 

And  yet  she  was  so  incomparably  more  attractive  as  a 
friend  than  as  a  lover.  .  .  . 

He  wished  that  he  could  deracinate  that  low-down,  ac- 
cursed feeling  of  his  that  he  had  been  led! 

For  the  first  time,  he  thought  of  Mrs.  Curran  in  terms 
of  her  age. 

But  the  thing  was  done.  It  was  too  bad;  still  it  couldn't 
be  helped  now.  Certainly  it  could  never  happen  again;  they 
had  both  learned  the  danger.  He  was  glad  she  was  going 
away  that  afternoon.  The  summer  would  give  them  both 
time  for  a  mental  readjustment. 

It  occurred  to  him  all  at  once  that  she  might  be  terribly 
angry  with  him — might  have  him  discharged  at  the  store. 
It  was  quite  clear  that  she  had  felt  no  animosity  toward 
him  when  he  left  the  night  before.  But  women  were  sub- 
ject to  violent  revulsions  of  feeling,  he  fancied. 

He  kept  his  promise  to  telephone  her  at  noon;  and  to  his 
indescribable  relief,  she  talked  quite  as  if  nothing  had  hap- 
pened. 

"I've  just  had  a  telegram  from  the  East,"  she  said  al- 
most at  once.  "I'll  have  to  postpone  going  for  another 
week." 

"I'm  awfully  glad,"  Lee  said,  in  perfect  sincerity.  Yet 
he  was  conscious  of  definite  misgivings.  He  was  aware,  also, 
of  putting  a  slightly  spurious  enthusiasm  into  his  tone  as 
he  asked:    "I  want  to  see  you  again,  just  as  soon  as  I  can." 

Mrs.  Curran  evinced  some  uncertainty.  "Day  after  to- 
morrow?" she  finally  suggested. 

It  seemed  incumbent  on  him  to  protest. 

"To-night,"  he  insisted. 

"I  can't  possibly — well — yes,  I  will,"  she  yielded. 

He  thought  she  seemed  gayer,  more  youthful-looking  than 
ever  that  night.  Perhaps  it  was  the  novelty  of  her  coiffure, 
or  the  unfamiliar,  salmon-colored  scarf  she  wore  about  her 
shoulders.    No,  her  very  expression  was  different.    Yet — 


THE  GROPER  141 

and  this  Lee  realised  with  a  pang — one  didn't  take  note  of 
youthfulness  in  a  girl. 

She  was  being  awfully  plucky,  he  decided,  about  the 
unhappy  culmination  of  the  night  before. 

Not  until  they  were  again  outside,  on  the  sheltered  little 
side  porch,  did  they  drift  toward  actualities. 

"Can  you  forgive  me?"  Lee  implored. 

Mrs.  Curran  felt  for  his  hand,  by  way  of  answer.  "It's 
all  so  wonderful,"  she  said,  almost  in  a  whisper.  "I  can't 
believe  that  you  love  me  as  you  do." 

He  sensed  that  her  mood  was  by  no  means  penitential, 
but  he  went  on.  "What  shall  we  do?  Are  you  going  to 
marry  me?" 

Mrs.  Curran  made  no  immediate  reply.  "Thank  you 
for  that,"  she  said  at  last.  "It  shows  me  again  how  splen- 
did you  are.  But  it  can't  be.  It  wouldn't  be  right."  Then 
with  perfect  candor:  "My  only  fear  is  that  I'm  taking 
something  that  doesn't  belong  to  me,  dear.  I  ought  not  to 
keep  you  from  falling  in  love  with  some  young  girl." 

Her  seeming  magnanimity  moved  Lee  deeply.  "Not  at 
all,"  he  insisted. 

She  sighed.  "I  couldn't  have  believed  it  possible  that 
I  should  have  a  love  such  as  yours." 

Somehow  Lee  found  it  quite  impossible  to  elucidate  his 
theory  that  the  affair  had  been  a  regrettable  accident,  to 
be  perpetually  guarded  against  in  the  future. 

Besides,  he  exculpated  himself,  he  really  did  love  Mrs. 
Curran — in  a  way. 

He  realised  that  his  failure  to  speak  out  now  meant  com- 
mitting himself  irrevocably  to  a  relationship  he  had  not 
sought  and  did  not  want,  yet  he  remained  silent. 

In  the  end,  the  delay  of  a  week  in  Mrs.  Curran's  depar- 
ture broadened  into  an  indefinite  postponement.  Instead  of 
going  to  Maine  for  the  summer,  she  finally  took  a  cottage 
at  a  northern  Michigan  resort  for  four  weeks  in  August. 


TO  his  everlasting  credit,  it  must  be  set  down  that  Lee's 
failure  to  break  off  relations  with  Mrs.  Curran  at 
the  very  outset  was  due  not  at  all  to  mercenary 
fears  for  his  job. 

His  advancement  at  the  store  had  already  been  remark- 
ably rapid;  and  during  the  next  two  years,  his  success  was 
destined  to  continue  unabated.  He  no  longer  harbored  the 
faintest  delusion  regarding  his  preferment;  it  was  not  due 
to  his  conspicuous  ability,  or  his  capacity  for  hard  work, 
though  he  did  reveal  both  of  these  commendable  qualities; 
it  was  due  solely  to  Mrs.  Curran's  "pull."  The  moment 
her  favor  ceased,  his  upward  progress  would  stop  instantly. 
Indeed,  he  doubted  not  that  Mrs.  Curran  had  but  to  frown 
upon  him,  and  he  would  be  discharged  forthwith. 

Yet  it  cannot  be  repeated  with  too  much  emphasis  that 
Lee's  complaisance — in  the  beginning,  at  least — was  founded 
neither  on  hopes  of  promotion  nor  fears  of  discharge.  Weak 
and  indecisive  he  doubtless  showed  himself;  base  and  sor- 
did, not  at  all. 

Any  lingering  uncertainties  as  to  the  real  reason  for  his 
rapid  promotion  vanished  when  he  tried  to  help  Bob 
Hamilton. 

Bob's  misfortunes  had  begun  when  his  newspaper  "let  him 
out,"  the  very  day  of  Lee's  employment  by  Curran  &  Com- 
pany.   As  Lee's  star  rose,  his  roommate's  descended. 

At  first,  Bob  had  been  obsessed  with  the  idea  of  writing 
short  stories. 

"The  magazines  are  beginning  to  hand  out  big  checks  for 
stories,"  he  told  Lee.    "I  read  the  other  day  of  some  chap 

142 


THE  GROPER  143 

getting  five  hundred  dollars  for  five  thousand  words.  Not 
very  much  of  a  story,  either.  I  can  write  just  as  good 
stuff." 

For  two  weeks,  he  went  about  with  an  aloof,  portentous 
air.  Lee,  full  of  his  own  new  visions  of  success,  understood 
in  a  general  way  that  Bob  had  thought  out  a  " corking 
good  plot,"  and  was  working  on  the  first  draft  of  his  story. 
Presently,  a  typewriter  appeared  in  their  rooms.  Bob  be- 
came more  preoccupied  than  ever.  Through  his  thick-lensed 
spectacles,  he  looked  positively  owlish.  His  manner  revealed 
that  he  considered  his  newly  discovered  genius  in  the  light 
of  a  solemn  trust  for  the  benefit  of  humanity. 

At  last,  with  the  mien  of  one  conferring  immortality, 
he  turned  the  manuscript  over  to  Lee. 

"See  if  you  think  it's  any  good,"  he  said  with  specious 
modesty,  and  hurried  from  the  house. 

Considerably  impressed,  Lee  looked  at  the  title.  "Two 
Women,"  it  read.  The  story,  he  found,  dealt  with  an  im- 
pressionable young  man,  and  the  profound  influence  on  his 
life  of  two  women,  both  beautiful:  the  one,  unscrupulous, 
designing — a  vampire;  the  other,  ingenuous,  devoted  to  good 
works,  thoroughly  virtuous.  At  the  last,  the  "good  girl" 
saved  the  young  man  from  the  fell  clutches  of  the  vampire 
lady. 

The  characters  seemed  none  too  convincing  to  Lee;  but 
the  story  was  well-written,  and  the  moral  was  impeccable. 

"Fine! "  he  encouraged  Bob.  "It's  loads  better  than  most 
of  the  stuff  in  magazines." 

Bob  rolled  his  head  gravely.  "I  don't  think  people  will 
get  the  full  significance  of  the  story's  message  the  first  time 
through.   That's  my  only  fear:  it'll  go  way  over  their  heads." 

He  spent  a  day  deciding  which  magazine  was  the  most 
worthy  medium  for  the  dissemination  of  a  great  moral 
truth.  Ultimately,  he  chose  a  popular  monthly,  and  mailed 
the  story. 


144  THE  GROPER 

While  he  was  waiting  for  the  magazine's  gratified  accept- 
ance— enclosing  check,  of  course — he  set  to  work  on  a  sec- 
ond story — one  that  would  rival  de  Maupassant  at  his  best, 
would  set  people  asking  who  "that  new  man  Hamilton"  was, 
anyway.  It  seemed  that  his  fund  of  plot-germs  was  inex- 
haustible. Not  so,  however,  his  meager  bank  account,  on 
which  he  was  now  forced  to  draw. 

Then  transpired  ah  amazing  thing:  "Two  Women"  came 
back!  To  be  certain,  a  printed  slip  explained  that  the  re- 
jection did  not  "imply  a  lack  of  merit."  But  Bob  was 
righteously  indignant. 

"Fools!"  he  cried.  "Well,  it  serves  'em  right.  I'll  let 
McWhortefs  have  it!" 

By  an  odd  coincidence,  McWhorter's  discovered  that 
uTwo  Women"  was  not  suited  to  its  "present  needs."  Bob, 
a  little  nonplussed,  sent  the  manuscript  to  a  third  maga- 
zine. Meanwhile,  his  second  story  finally  reached  comple- 
tion and  was  laboriously  typewritten.  Bob  entitled  it  "The 
Red  Rose." 

"It  has  more  adventure,  more  action  than  'Two  Women,'  " 
he  confided  to  Lee.  "That's  what  the  low-brows  want  these 
days." 

But  New  York  editors  remained  unconscionably  dense. 
Both  manuscripts  came  back  promptly,  and  Bob's  third 
story  lagged.  He  drew  his  last  dollar  from  the  savings 
bank,  and  began  to  remember  the  materialistic  details  of 
life  once  more. 

"I  guess  most  authors  have  the  dickens  of  a  time  at 
first,"  sympathised  Lee. 

But  Bob,  by  this  time,  seemed  thoroughly  deflated.  His 
eyes  were  tired  and  moist,  and  his  tell-tale  lower  lip  trem- 
bled. 

"I  don't  know,"  he  doubted.  "Seems  as  though  I  try 
hard  enough  to  succeed.    Guess  it  simply  isn't  in  me." 

He  made  the  round  of  the  newspapers  again,  but  there 


THE  GROPER  145 

were  no  openings.  He  left  his  name  with  two  employment 
agencies  that  specialised  in  "genteel  positions"  and  inciden- 
tally took  two  dollars  apiece  away  from  him  as  a  "registra- 
tion fee."  He  inserted  a  liner  in  the  "Wanted-Situations- 
Male"  columns.  He  even  contemplated  seeking  the  "splen- 
did opening  for  an  ambitious,  industrious  man,"  still  offered 
by  the  Security  Realty  Company;  but  Lee,  no  longer  con- 
strained by  pride  to  glorify  the  real  estate  business,  gave 
him  timely  warning. 

By  the  first  of  July,  Bob  had  borrowed  thirty  dollars 
from  Lee,  and  was  still  looking  for  work,  in  a  vague,  hope- 
less sort  of  way.  It  was  apparent  that  he  was  about  at  the 
end  of  his  rope. 

His  unhappy  situation  involved  Lee  in  a  problem  which 
he  felt  he  could  not  postpone  solving  much  longer.  He  must 
either  keep  on  loaning  Bob  money,  or  he  must  "ditch"  him. 
The  former  alternative  seemed  highly  distasteful.  Many  of 
his  instincts  prescribed  getting  rid  of  his  roommate.  He 
could  no  longer  conceal  from  himself  that  he  despised  Bob's 
pusillanimity.  He  began  to  think  of  his  roommate  as  a 
drag,  an  incubus,  upon  his  own  upward  career.  Besides, 
with  his  new  prosperity  came  the  desire  to  move  to  better 
rooms,  to  ameliorate  his  whole  mode  of  living.  Every  time 
he  came  home  from  Mrs.  Curran's  beautifully  appointed 
house,  his  own  quarters  seemed  bleaker,  more  barren. 

Yet  he  could  not  withhold  a  very  genuine  sympathy  for 
Bob's  plight.  It  reminded  him  so  vividly  of  his  own  situ- 
ation less  than  four  months  before.  Bob  was  a  nuisance, 
of  course;  but  he  had  been  Lee's  only  friend  in  Detroit 
for  six  long  months. 

At  this  juncture,  a  ridiculously  simple  solution  occurred 
to  Lee.  Why  not  get  Bob  a  job  at  the  Curran  store?  Bob 
had  no  nerve,  but  he  was  clever  enough  in  his  way. 

He  took  the  matter  up  with  Howard  Doman,  who  re- 
ferred him  noncommittally  to  Mr.  Jameson.    Lee  was  by 


146  THE  GROPER 

now  on  familiar  terms  with  the  employment  manager,  and 
he  broached  the  hiring  of  Bob  with  easy  confidence. 

But  Jameson,  his  faintly  humorous  air  still  in  evidence, 
interposed  unexpected  difficulties. 

"I  don't  doubt  what  you  say  about  your  friend,  Hillquit," 
he  averred.  "But  we're  full  up — letting  people  go  instead 
of  taking  'em  on.  Of  course,  I'll  be  glad  to  put  his  name 
on  the  list,  and  give  him  the  first  chance." 

It  came  home  to  Lee  very  sharply  that  his  influence  at 
the  store  was  precisely  nil. 

His  next  thought  involved  enlisting  Mrs.  Curran's  good 
offices  on  Bob's  behalf — much  as  he  disliked  placing  himself 
under  further  obligation  to  her. 

His  benefactress,  too,  remained  surprisingly  unmoved  by 
his  recital  of  Bob's  unfortunate  situation. 

"Of  course,  my  dear,  you  must  understand,"  she  told  him, 
"I  can't  make  a  practice  of  interfering  in  the  management 
of  the  store.  That  would  demoralise  discipline.  You  were 
the  exception  to  my  rule." 

It  hurt  Lee's  pride  to  point  out  that  he  was  asking  her 
influence  for  Bob  as  a  personal  favor  to  himself. 

To  this  plea,  Mrs.  Curran  yielded.  "I'll  see  what  I  can 
do,"  she  promised.  "But  he  mustn't  expect  anything  better 
than  a  clerkship  or  something  like  that." 

He  thanked  her,  but  the  incident  depressed  him.  It 
seemed  to  him  he  was  now  more  inescapably  under  bond 
to  her  than  ever. 

Two  days  afterward,  Jameson  told  him,  with  a  significant 
smile,  that  there  was  an  opening  for  a  salesman  in  the  men's 
furnishing  department. 

"I'll  be  glad,  as  a  favor  to  you,  to  put  your  friend  in," 
he  concluded. 

It  was  worth  all  his  personal  humiliation  to  see  Bob's 
face  light  up  at  the  news. 

"Just  see  how  they've  boosted  you,  Lee!"  he  vociferated. 


THE  GROPER  147 

"If  you  only  knew  how  I've  been  envying  your  success! 
And  now  I'll  have  a  chance  to  climb  up  just  behind  you." 

Lee  repressed  a  cynical  smile.  Poor  Bob  would  find  the 
reality  very  disappointing.  He  wondered  if  all  such  envy 
arose  from  similar  ignorance  of  the  real  facts — if  every  suc- 
cessful man  or  woman  was  paying  the  price  for  success  in 
loss  of  self-respect. 


m 

IN  spite  of  his  occasional  vague  unhappiness  of  spirit, 
Lee  found  his  new  work  absorbingly  interesting.  Then, 
too,  there  was  the  elation  of  financial  success.  Forty 
dollars  a  week  seemed  like  inexhaustible  wealth  to  him. 

Howard  Doman  took  time  off  one  day  for  another  of  his 
"bird's-eye-view"  talks. 

"The  whole  Curran  store,"  he  expounded,  "exists  for  just 
one  purpose — to  sell  goods.  Everything  else  centres  around 
that  big  purpose.  Advertising  is  only  good  insofar  as  it 
helps  to  sell  goods.  Never  forget  that  point.  Every  inch 
of  newspaper  space  we  pay  for  must  produce  results  in  in- 
creased sales." 

He  went  on  to  describe  the  mechanism  of  the  Curran  ad- 
vertising. Each  morning  at  nine  o'clock,  Michael  Curran 
presided  over  a  meeting  of  the  more  important  department 
buyers.  Young  Peter  Curran,  secretary  and  treasurer  of 
the  Company,  Harrison  Estabrook,  the  store  superintendent, 
and  Doman  were  also  members  of  this  board  of  strategy. 
The  principal  business  of  the  meeting  was  the  decision  as 
to  which  department's  wares  were  to  be  exploited  one  week 
from  the  day  in  question.  Ordinarily,  it  was  the  custom 
to  adhere  closely  to  the  schedule  of  the  preceding  year.  If 
on  June  28th,  1907,  the  chief  emphasis  had  been  placed 
on  a  special  sale  of  boys'  suits,  it  was  more  than  likely 
that  June  28th,  1908,  would  again  discover  boys'  suits  in 
the  foreground.  Frequently  there  were  hot  disputes  between 
various  departments:  the  linen  buyer,  for  instance,  might 
find  his  stock  clogged  with  a  certain  line  that  had  not 

148 


THE  GROPER  149 

moved  as  rapidly  as  expected;  and  he  would  clamor  for  a 
special  sale  to  relieve  the  congestion,  irrespective  of  the 
rights  of  other  departments. 

Of  all  such  disputes,  Michael  Curran  was  the  final  ar- 
biter. His  board  of  strategy  was  solely  advisory;  it  pos- 
sessed no  real  power.  Michael  Curran  had  his  finger  on 
the  pulse  of  the  entire  business.  He  knew  early  each  day 
just  what  the  preceding  day's  sales  had  aggregated.  He 
knew  pretty  accurately  how  much  stock  remained  on  the 
shelves  each  night.  There  was  a  board  of  directors,  to  be 
sure,  of  which  Mrs.  Curran  and  Estabrook  were  the  other 
members;  but  Michael  Curran  was  the  real  dictator  of  the 
business  nevertheless. 

The  campaign  for  the  following  week  having  been  deter- 
mined, Doman's  work  began.  One  of  his  assistants  im- 
mediately went  into  a  long  conference  with  the  buyer  of  the 
department  to  be  featured,  and  emerged  with  complete  data 
of  the  goods  comprising  the  sale,  their  qualities,  their  sell- 
ing points  and  their  prices.  Doman  and  his  assistant  would 
go  over  these  details  with  painstaking  care,  and  Doman 
would  decide  in  a  general  way  how  much  space  was  to  be 
allotted  to  each  class  of  goods.  The  assistant  would  then 
write  out  the  "copy"  for  the  advertisement,  while  Doman 
devoted  himself  to  planning  the  "layout,"  or  general  diagram 
of  the  advertisement.  The  "layout"  indicated  the  location 
of  the  headings,  illustrations,  and  the  spaces  for  each  class 
of  goods.  Doman  wrote  most  of  the  headings  himself.  He 
was  considered  an  exceptional  craftsman  in  matters  of  ar- 
rangement and  type — in  making  his  salient  ideas  stand  out. 

Doman  next  revised  the  "copy"  prepared  by  his  assistant. 
The  descriptive  matter  of  each  class  of  goods  was  usually 
written  on  a  separate  sheet  of  paper,  numbered  to  corre- 
spond with  a  similarly  numbered  space  on  the  "layout." 

The  advertisement  was  by  this  time  in  shape  for  final 
approval.    Michael  Curran  reserved  the  nominal  right  to 


150  THE  GROPER 

alter  all  advertising  matter,  but  of  late  he  had  seldom  exer- 
cised this  privilege. 

Four  copies  of  the  "layout"  and  "copy"  were  made,  one 
for  each  newspaper.  Advertising  matter,  Doman  explained, 
must  ordinarily  reach  the  papers  two  days  in  advance  to  in- 
sure ample  time  for  proofreading.  Extra  proofs  were  usu- 
ally struck  off,  and  distributed  throughout  the  department 
to  be  exploited  by  the  sale,  so  that  each  salesman  could 
familiarise  himself  with  every  detail  of  the  featured  goods. 

Curran  &  Company  used  a  full  page  advertisement  every 
day  in  three  Detroit  newspapers,  sometimes  in  four.  "A 
whole  page  is  five  times  more  effective  than  a  half-page," 
Doman  explained.  The  store  made  yearly  contracts  for 
"preferred  space";  every  Curran  "ad"  appeared  either  on 
the  third  or  the  fifth  page.  Every  newspaper  reader  in  the 
city  subconsciously  expected  that  advertisement  on  its  cus- 
tomary page.  At  times,  the  advertising  occupied  more  than 
a  page;  the  men's  clothing  and  furnishings  departments 
would  announce  their  wares  from  the  sporting  page,  per- 
haps. 

The  Curran  advertising  harmonised  with  the  general 
policy  of  the  store.  It  was  neither  ultra-conservative  nor 
garishly  spectacular.  "When  we  want  to  designate  the 
male  of  the  species,  we  don't  say  'gents,'  and  we  don't  say 
'gentlemen,'  "  epitomised  Doman.  "We  say  'men.'  "  Each 
advertisement  was  cast  in  the  same  general  form — a  fairly 
heavy  heading,  and  the  rest  of  the  "copy"  set  up  in  narrow 
columns.  Doman  didn't  believe  in  "stock  cuts,"  but  he 
liked  original,  slightly  humorous  illustrations  to  put  life  into 
his  displays.  "We  don't  scream  at  people,"  he  commented. 
"We  just  button-hole  them  in  neighborly  fashion.  Most 
important  of  all,  we're  honest.  We  always  understate, 
rather  than  overstate. 

"It's  a  great  game,  Lee,"  the  advertising  manager  mused, 
his  alive  grey  eyes  half-closed.    "There's  as  much  poetry 


THE  GROPER  151 

and  classic  symmetry  of  form  in  a  good  ad,  as  there  is  in  the 
Odyssey — and  look  how  many  more  people  read  your  stuff 
when  you're  a  publicity  man.  But  you've  got  a  good  deal 
harder  job  than  the  average  word-artist.  All  he's  trying  to 
do  is  to  stir  you  so  much  that  you'll  either  laugh  or  cry. 
But  the  ad-man  must  stir  people  so  much  that  they  feel 
an  irresistible  craving  to  come  to  his  store  and  buy. 

"There's  your  whole  problem.  Stir  people's  imaginations. 
See  to  it  that  your  words  reach  out  and  grip  them.  Use 
suggestive  phrases.  Make  men  feel  the  warm  snugness  of 
Curran  overcoats.  Make  women  revel  in  the  pictured  sheen 
of  Curran  silks.  Always  try  to  leave  that  vivid  picture  in 
their  minds.  Always  make  your  words  caress  some  pleas- 
ant sense  of  sight  or  touch  or  smell.  Always  be  genuinely 
enthusiastic  yourself,  in  the  first  place,  before  you  try  to 
make  your  readers  enthusiastic.  And  always  keep  the  prac- 
tical viewpoint — never,  for  God's  sake,  let  your  stuff  get 
art-y!" 

Lee's  first  work  was  to  familiarise  himself  in  a  general 
way  with  the  entire  store's  stock  of  goods.  He  spent  a 
whole  month  going  from  department  to  department.  He 
was  already  well  versed  in  the  stock  of  the  various  men's 
departments,  and  the  toilet  articles  and  women's  suit-and- 
cloak  departments.  His  window-dressing  experience  had 
done  that  much  for  him.  But  he  knew  almost  nothing  about 
furniture  and  rugs.  He  hadn't  the  faintest  conception  of 
the  difference  between  crepe  and  cretonne,  crinoline  and  taf- 
feta. His  ignorance  of  millinery  and  embroideries,  of  rib- 
bons and  patterns,  was  abysmal. 

After  that,  Doman  put  him  to  work  on  a  small  advertising 
booklet  for  the  kodak  department,  then  on  a  series  of  letters 
to  a  special  list  of  customers,  announcing  the  first  of  the  fall 
openings.  Little  by  little,  he  began  writing  copy  for  news- 
paper advertisements. 

There  were  three  other  assistants  directly  under  Doman's 


152  THE  GROPER 

supervision.  Holman  Hart  did  nothing  but  write  copy. 
Whitehead  specialised  in  the  various  women's  departments 
and  dry  goods.  Ben  Reuter  devoted  himself  exclusively  to 
catalog  advertising.  Lee  found  it  easy  to  get  along  with 
all  three.  He  did  not  especially  fear  competition  with  them. 
They  were  all  technically  clever ;  but  they  lacked  his  educa- 
tion; their  ideas  had  no  breadth. 

Lee  could  not  help  noticing  Hart's  disquietude  about  his 
own  future.  Hart  had  been  in  the  advertising  department 
for  ten  years.  He  considered  himself  Doman's  "right 
hand  bower,"  as  he  expressed  it;  and  it  was  obvious  that 
he  viewed  the  advertising  manager's  open  favor  of  Lee  with 
anxiety. 

"How  long  have  you  known  Doman?"  he  would  ask.  Then 
he  would  try  to  discourage  Lee.  "Hell!  There's  no  future 
in  the  advertisin'  department,  Hillquit.  All  we  do  is  spend 
money.  Curran  keeps  down  advertisin'  salaries  as  low  as 
possible.  The  men  who  are  sellin'  the  goods  are  the  ones  who 
draw  down  the  big  money.  Some  of  the  buyers  make  eight 
or  ten  thousand  a  year.  Take  it  from  me,  there's  nothin* 
for  you  here.  Get  Doman  to  make  you  assistant  buyer 
in  some  good  live  department." 

Hart  was  forty-five,  bald  and  sandy-moustached.  He  had 
a  family.  Lee  felt  sorry  for  him,  but  he  had  by  now  de- 
termined to  suppress  his  softer  inclinations.  If  he  could 
get  ahead  of  Hart,  he  purposed  doing  so,  no  matter  how 
much  his  rival's  feelings  were  hurt,  no  matter  how  much 
longer  Hart  had  been  working  in  the  department. 

And  it  was  daily  becoming  clearer  that  Lee  was  destined 
to  become  Doman's  chief  assistant.  Doman  liked  him  per- 
sonally and  respected  his  ability;  the  other  three  assistants 
were  nothing  but  mechanical  incidents  to  him. 

Gradually  it  was  noised  abroad,  too,  that  Lee  had  a  "pull" 
— was  a  man  with  a  big  future  in  the  Curran  store.  He 
noticed  with  astonishment  the  increasing  deference  of  the 


THE  GROPER  153 

salesmen.  "Mr.  Hillquit"  succeeded  plain  "Hillquit"  and 
"Lee."  It  was  laughable  to  discern  the  anxiety  of  Freytag, 
Barker,  McPherson  and  others  who  had  "knocked"  the 
store  to  him. 

Lee  had  no  illusions  about  this  deference.  It  was  en- 
tirely superficial,  he  knew.  Below  the  surface  were  rancid 
jealousy  and  malevolence.  He  was  familiar  enough  with 
the  psychology  of  the  employes  to  imagine  the  gusto  with 
which  they  must  be  seizing  upon  the  real  explanation  for 
his  success.  He  could  picture  them  licking  their  lips  over 
the  thought  of  Mrs.  Curran  and  himself.  They  would  cite 
his  rapid  promotion  as  a  corroboration  of  their  cynical 
attitude  toward  the  store. 

"Shows  what  'pull'  does,"  he  could  hear  them  saying. 
"Hillquit  gets  boosted  because  he  makes  love  to  Mrs.  Cur- 
ran. Pretty  soon,  he'll  probably  be  preaching  to  us  about 
how  hard  work  and  merit  are  the  things  that  bring  a  better 
job  and  more  pay." 

All  this  had  the  effect  at  first  of  overwhelming  Lee  with 
self-consciousness  and  a  sense  of  guilt.  It  also  heightened 
his  feeling  of  loyalty  toward  Mrs.  Curran.  What  they  were 
saying  was  outrageous,  of  course.  His  relationship  with 
Mrs.  Curran  was  not  sordid.  He  had  had  no  thought  of 
promotion  at  any  time  during  their  acquaintance.  What- 
ever else  might  be  said  of  their  affair,  it  was  free  from  venal 
motives  on  his  part.  Nevertheless,  it  was  perfectly  true, 
he  realised,  that  he  owed  this  first  employment  and  his 
subsequent  promotion  solely  to  Mrs.  Curran. 

What  helped  him,  as  much  as  anything  else,  to  steel 
himself  was  the  gradual  incredible  perception  that  nobody 
thought  there  was  anything  at  all  shameful  about  his  ethics. 
All  the  clerks  were  secretly  bitter  about  his  promotion  over 
their  .heads.  But  that  was  mere  envy.  Every  one  seemed 
to  feel  that  he  had  done  a  very  clever  thing  in  pretending 
to  fall  in  love  with  Mrs.  Curran.    Most  of  them  wouldn't 


154  THE  GROPER 

have  hesitated  an  instant  in  doing  the  same  thing.  It  wasn't 
his  morals  they  sneered  at.  It  was  the  fact  that  "pull" 
counted  for  everything,  and  mere  faithfulness,  nothing. 

The  gossip  reached  the  office  force  in  due  time,  but  no 
one  seemed  to  think  the  less  of  him  for  it.  Many,  in  fact, 
went  out  of  their  way  to  be  friendly  to  him.  He  was  con- 
stantly engaged  for  lunch.  He  detected  the  first  signs  of 
toadyism.  These  people  cared  nothing  for  him,  he  realised. 
They  simply  figured  that  his  friendship  would  soon  become 
a  valuable  business  asset. 

He  had  a  well-founded  suspicion  that  even  the  heads  of 
the  business  identified  him  as  "Mrs.  Curran's  young  man." 
Now  he  understood  Jameson's  faintly  humorous  manner 
with  him.  The  employment  manager  had  divined  the  situ- 
ation from  the  first.  Young  Peter  Curran  was  likewise  dis- 
posed to  take  an  amused  view  of  the  situation;  but  Harri- 
son Estabrook,  who  was  reputed  to  have  married  Pansy 
Curran  solely  for  her  money,  apparently  took  a  more  serious 
view  of  Lee's  moral  obliquity,  for  he  remained  aloof  and 
indefinably  contemptuous. 

Even  old  Michael  Curran  Was  in  on  the  secret,  it  ap- 
peared. He  was  away  during  most  of  the  summer,  but  once 
or  twice,  as  he  passed  through  the  offices,  Lee  was  aware 
of  his  sharp  scrutiny. 

On  his  part,  Lee  was  even  more  curious  regarding  the  head 
of  the  business.  By  this  time  he  had  heard  a  great  many 
stories  about  "Mike,"  as  Curran  was  known  throughout  the 
store;  stories  of  his  consuming  wrath  and  his  good-natured 
generosity;  stories  of  his  business  acumen;  many  a  hint  of 
his  bachelor  "parties." 

"There's  one  thing  about  Mike,"  advised  Howard  Doman. 
"He  may  try  to  scare  you  out  of  your  wits;  but  what  he 
really  admires  is  a  man  who  isn't  afraid  of  him,  and  if  he 
once  likes  you,  he'll  give  you  every  -cent  he  has  in  the 
world." 


THE  GROPER  155 

One  stifling  August  afternoon,  Lee  received  a  peremptory 
message  that  Curran  wanted  to  see  him.  Doman  was  out 
of  the  city,  and  there  was  no  one  else  to  whom  he  could 
go  for  counsel.  He  entered  the  president's  office  with  in- 
ward quaking. 

Michael  Curran  at  this  time  was  a  man  of  nearly  sixty 
years.  His  broad  face  was  still  ruddy  with  flamboyant 
health — though  it  was  common  opinion  that  he  had  aged 
considerably  in  the  last  two  years.  His  big,  round  head 
and  his  belligerent,  powerful  neck  betokened  inexhaustible 
reservoirs  of  animal  vigor.  This  intimation  of  crude  physi- 
cal force  was  carried  out  in  his  features:  his  small,  gnarled 
nose  and  large  nostrils;  his  broad,  shrewd  mouth;  his  power- 
ful jaw. 

It  was  only  too  apparent  to  Lee  that  Curran  was  in  a 
truculent  mood.  His  small,  faded-blue  eyes  glinted  dan- 
gerously. 

" You're  Laura  Curran's  protege?"  he  began. 

Lee  endeavored  to  profit  by  Doman's  hint.  "Mrs.  Cur- 
ran is  a  very  good  friend  of  mine,"  he  said  quietly. 

"Ye-ah."  "Mike"  snarled  the  word,  rather  than  spoke 
it.  He  picked  up  a  newspaper  advertisement.  "Did  you 
write  the  copy  for  this  clearance  sale  of  summer  suits?"  he 
demanded. 

Lee  looked  at  the  indicated  portion  of  the  advertisement. 

"Yes,  sir,"  he  announced  cheerfully.    "Why?" 

"Why?"  Curran  exploded.  "It's  rotten,  that's  why.  D' 
you  s'pose  I  pay  good  money  for  stuff  like  that?" 

Lee  contrived  an  optimistic  smile.  "I  don't  know.  What's 
the  matter  with  it?" 

»^'Why,  you  poor  idiot,  you  write  as  if  you  thought  nobody 
but  college  professors  read  our  ads.  'Monochrome,'  'prodi- 
gious,' 'attrition-proof,'  'velutinous,'  'lanate,'  'flocculent.' " 
Curran  lingered  over  each  word  with  increasing  disgust. 


156  THE  GROPER 

He  mispronounced  all  but  one.  "What  sort  of  stuff  6?  you 
call  that?    What  do  them  words  mean?" 

Lee  grinned  still  more.    "Search  me." 

Curran's  lower  jaw  dropped  in  sheer  surprise  at  Lee's 
effrontery.  "Well,  see  you  don't  do  it  again,"  he  finally  said 
in  tones  that  were  almost  meek,  "or  you'll  lose  your  job — 
no  matter  who  you  got  for  friends.  Write  your  ads  so's  I 
can  understand  every  word.    Hear  me?" 

Lee  became  very  polite.    "Yes,  sir,"  he  acquiesced. 

When  Doman  returned,  a  day  or  two  later,  Lee  sought 
the  first  opportunity  for  giving  his  chief  a  full  account  of 
the  Curran  interview. 

"Well,  that's  certainly  a  good  one,"  Doman  chuckled. 
"And  the  best  part  of  it  is  that  you  really  got  away  with  it. 
The  first  thing  Mike  said  to  me  when  I  came  back  was: 
'Say!  That  young  Hillquit's  either  a  fool  or  a  hero.,  He 
actually  laughed  about  it.  But  at  that,  he  was  right  about 
the  ad  being  poor.  Better  lay  off  that  Thesaurus  stuff — 
big  words  only  make  people  think  you're  trying  to  be 
smart." 

Doman  looked  reminiscent.  "Michael  Curran  would 
never  have  stood  for  any  fresh  talk  like  yours  until  a  couple 
of  years  ago.  I'm  afraid  he's  beginning  to  slip  back  fast." 

Lee  listened  eagerly  whenever  Doman  flattered  him  with 
such  confidential  opinions. 

"He's  certainly  had  a  remarkable  career,"  he  suggested. 

The  advertising  manager  seemed  to  be  wondering  how 
far  he  might  trust  his  assistant. 

"Yes,"  he  finally  agreed.  "Mike  Curran  has  one  of  the 
best  natural  business  heads  in  the  country.  If  he'd  only 
had  some  sort  of  a  chance  when  he  was  a  kid,  there'd  have 
been  no  stopping  him.  As  it  is,  he's  just  like  a  whole  lot 
of  other  successful  Americans.  There  are  only  two  things 
in  life  that  interest  him:  money  and  women.  And  I  guess 
he's  had  more  than  his  fair  share  of  both." 


THE  GROPER  157 

Doman  looked  out  of  the  window  a  moment.  "But  he's 
been  losing  his  grip  for  quite  a  while  now.  Just  between* 
you  and  me,  the  store  is  retrogressing,  too.  Compared  with 
some  of  the  Chicago  stores,  it's  a  back  number.  The  or- 
ganisation is  antiquated  and  the  machinery  is  beginning 
to  creak  badly.  There'll  have  to  be  a  change  before  long, 
or  it'll  be  too  late." 

Lee  stared.  He  had  always  thought  of  Curran  &  Com- 
pany as  a  Gibraltar  of  permanency. 

"And  there  will  be  a  change,  Lee,"  Doman  went  on.  "Mr. 
Curran  can't  last  much  longer — as  the  active  head  of  the 
business,  I  mean.  When  he  steps  down,  there's  going  to 
be  a  fight  for  his  place — and  that  fight  will  be  between 
Estabrook  and  me.  Each  of  us  will  be  backed  by  a  third 
of  the  company's  capital  stock.  Pete  Curran  and  Mrs.  Esta- 
brook own  one-sixth  apiece/  and  they'll  both  be  for  Esta- 
brook. I  don't  mind  telling  you  that  Mrs.  Tom  Curran 
will  vote  her  one-third  for  me.  The  balance  of  power  is 
Michael  Curran's  third — and  just  where  he'll  stand,  nobody 
knows." 

"Estabrook!"  Lee  broke  out.  "Why,  he  can't  run  the 
business.    Every  one  knows  that!" 

"Estabrook  doesn't  know  it."  Doman  smiled.  "But  as 
between  him  and  me,  I'm  conceited  enough  to  think  I  can 
do  the  better  job.  It's  going  to  be  a  real  fight,  though,  for 
Mike  Curran's  support.  One  thing's  sure."  Doman  pounded 
the  desk  with  his  fist.  "If  I  become  the  next  head  of  this 
store,  I'll  do  some  housecleaning,  by  God.  I'll  make  a 
clean  sweep  of  most  of  these  parasites  that  hold  the  fat  jobs. 
I'll  promote  only  the  men  who  deserve  promotion — and  I'll 
have  a  loyal,  hustling  force  of  employes." 

Doman  stood  up  and  paced  up  and  down  the  office. 
"That  may  sound  like  strange  doctrine,  Lee.  I'm  willing 
to  admit  I've  manipulated  every  wire  I  could  lay  my  hands 
on  in  order  to  get  where  I  am  in  the  business  to-day.    You, 


158  THE  GROPER 

yourself,  can't  be  entirely  ignorant  of  the  fact  that  you've 
had  certain  influences  in  your  favor,  too.  But  both  of  us 
really  hate  'pull/  I  guess.  We'd  much  rather  climb  up  on 
our  own  merits,  if  everybody  else  would  do  the  same.  I  de- 
test 'pull,'  not  only  as  a  matter  of  principle,  but  because  it's 
bad  business.  See  how  it  clogs  this  store — hampers  the 
business.  Why,  Detroit's  beginning  to  grow  like  a  house 
a-fire;  yet  Curran  &  Company  is  making  less  profit  to-day 
than  it  did  five  years  ago." 

Presently  the  big  advertising  manager  approached  and 
laid  his  hand  on  Lee's  shoulder. 

"I'll  be  needing  a  few  good  men  to  help  me,"  he  said. 
"Can  I  count  on  you?" 

Lee  nodded. 

"That's  bully  1 "  Doman  let  his  hand  rest  on  Lee's  shoulder 
a  second  longer,  then  quickly  reverted  to  routine  matters. 

This  talk  of  Doman's  opened  Lee's  eyes  not  a  little.  It 
gave  him  a  real  insight  into  the  innermost  workings  of  the 
store  organisation.  It  explained  Michael  Curran,  Estabrook, 
Doman  himself.  It  made  the  whole  situation  intensely, 
humanly  dramatic.  It  gave  him  definite  stakes  in  the 
struggle  that  seemed  imminent. 

He  thought  of  Doman  a  good  deal  in  those  days.  There 
was  something  almost  paternal  in  the  older  man's  way  of 
looking  at  him — something  faintly  sympathetic. 

Lee  wondered  just  how  much  truth  there  was  in  Barker's 
insinuation  about  Doman's  friendship  with  Mrs.  Curran. 


IV 

LEE  devoted  himself  to  his  work  throughout  the 
summer  and  fall  with  such  good  results  that  in 
October  Howard  Doman  officially  appointed  him  as- 
sistant advertising  manager  and  raised  his  salary  to  fifty 
dollars  a  week. 

Altogether,  it  was  a  happy  period  in  his  life.  His  relations 
with  Mrs.  Curran  troubled  his  mind  to  a  certain  extent, 
and  he  still  felt  a  poignant  heart-sickness  over  the  loss  of 
his  first  fine  ideals.  Not  even  his  liking  for  Doman  and 
his  sympathy  for  his  chief's  ambitions  could  overcome  his 
growing  cynicism  and  suspicion  of  people's  motives.  He 
even  caught  himself  involuntarily  searching  for  selfish  in- 
centives in  the  advertising  manager. 

"Doman  isn't  different  from  anybody  else,"  some  small 
voice  whispered.  "He  wants  to  be  the  head  of  this  business, 
and  he's  friendly  to  you  only  because  he  thinks  he  can  use 
you." 

But  such  blemishes  could  not  alter  the  fact  that  he  was 
getting  a  keen  pleasure  out  of  his  work.  The  psychology 
of  advertising  fascinated  him.  He  was  forever  dramatising 
the  significance  of  publicity.  He  liked  to  speculate  on  the 
effect  of  his  "copy"  upon  various  sorts  of  people.  He  came 
to  know  a  rare  joy  in  words — their  athletic  trimness,  their 
suppleness,  their  slender  symmetry,  their  power  of  sugges- 
tion. It  was  pure  delight  to  have  precisely  the  one  and  only 
word  come  leaping  out  from  the  back  of  his  mind  to  greet 
his  visualised  idea. 

He  was  conscious  of  a  new  buoyancy,  too,  in  the  feeling 
that  he  was  now  an  assured  success.  If  Howard  Doman 
became  the  head  of  the  store,  Lee  might  hope  to  succeed 

159 


i6o  THE  GROPER 

him  as  advertising  manager.  Even  if  Doman  failed,  Lee  felt 
small  anxiety  about  being  able  to  keep  his  present  position, 
at  least. 

It  was  good  fun  just  to  draw  a  check  for  one  hundred 
dollars  every  fortnight,  to  have  a  checking  account  at  the 
bank,  to  know  for  the  first  time  in  his  life  the  caressing 
reassurance  of  expensive,  tailor-made  clothing,  of  distinctive 
haberdashery.  He  forsook  his  cheap  boarding  house  and 
began  to  patronise  the  downtown  cafes.  He  would  gladly 
have  moved  to  more  luxurious  rooms  save  for  Bob  Ham- 
ilton. 

The  bonds  between  his  roommate  and  himself  had  become 
more  and  more  irksome  throughout  the  summer.  Bob's 
early  enthusiasm  over  his  clerkship  in  the  men's  furnishings 
department  had  visibly  waned  after  the  first  month.  Grad- 
ually he  became  infected  with  the  demoralising  pessimism 
of  the  other  salesmen.  He  came  to  see  that  Lee  was  an 
exception  to  the  rule. 

On  his  part,  Lee  constantly  endeavored  to  help  his  room- 
mate. He  even  arranged  a  conference  between  Bob  and 
Howard  Doman,  but  the  advertising  manager  did  not  seem 
greatly  impressed. 

"Your  friend  hasn't  any  ideas,"  he  told  Lee. 

Meanwhile,  Bob's  salary  remained  at  twelve  dollars  a 
week.  It  was  out  of  the  question  for  him  to  pay  a  higher 
room-rent. 

In  his  dissatisfaction  with  their  quarters,  Lee  even  sug- 
gested that  he  pay  two-thirds  of  the  rent  of  better  rooms. 

"No."  Bob  shook  his  head.  "That's  one  thing  I  won't 
do,  Lee."  His  voice  became  tremulous.  "I  wonder  why  it 
is  I'm  such  a  failure.  It's  an  awful  feeling.  Sometimes  I'm 
tempted  to  give  up." 

Lee  would  certainly  have  dissolved  partnership,  but  for 
some  residue  of  real  sympathy  for  Bob.  Selling  socks  from 
morning  to  night  must  be  enough  to  depress  any  one.    He 


THE  GROPER  i6r 

remembered  also  how  deeply  he  himself  had  been  hurt  by 
Fred  Badger's  rebuff. 

His  work  had  kept  Lee  in  the  city  throughout  the  summer. 
He  had  been  home  only  three  times — in  April,  over  the 
Fourth  of  July,  and  one  week-end  in  September. 

These  visits  to  Chatham  brought  him  more  pain  than 
pleasure.  He  was  deeply  thankful  that  Vera  lived  in  Record 
instead  of  Chatham.  His  mother  could  give  him  no  news 
of  her,  except  the  common  report  that  she  seemed  to  "like 
being  married  real  well."  But  every  street  in  the  village, 
every  bend  in  the  outlying  country  roads,  each  flickering 
kerosene  street-lamp  brought  back  unhappy  memories. 

Yet  it  was  pleasant  to  renew  acquaintances,  to  show  the 
people  of  Chatham  how  famously  he  was  getting  on  in  the 
city.  His  mother  took  an  enormous  pride  in  his  success. 
She  wanted  to  know  all  about  Mrs.  Curran.  It  was  evident 
that  she  expected  him  to  become  a  second  P.  H.  Taladay 
within  another  year  or  two.  After  his  last  visit,  she  mailed 
him  a  copy  of  the  "Republican"  containing  a  front-page 
eulogy  of  himself  under  the  caption:  "Chatham  Boy  Makes 
Good  in  Detroit." 

One  of  his  keenest  pleasures  had  been  to  start  paying 
back  the  sum  his  mother  had  loaned  him.  With  his  latest 
increase  of  salary,  he  calculated  that  he  could  speedily  com- 
plete this  repayment.  He  planned  to  do  a  great  deal  more. 
The  old  Hillquit  house  looked  forbiddingly  bleak  and  un- 
comfortable, especially  in  comparison  with  Mrs.  Curran's 
home.  His  mother's  health  had  been  none  too  good  lately, 
and  he  disliked  the  thought  of  her  spending  another  winter 
in  Chatham  alone.  He  had  about  decided  to  insist  on  her 
coming  to  Detroit,  at  least  until  spring.  It  occurred  to 
him  that  this  plan  would  give  him  a  good  excuse  for  parting 
company  with  Bob. 

But  toward  the  end  of  October  came  an  alarming  letter 
from  old  "Doc"  Thurber— the  family  physician,  who  had 


162  THE  GROPER 

assisted  Lee  into  the  world — stating  that  Mrs.  Hillquit  was 
seriously  ill.  "Looks  like  pneumonia,"  ventured  Dr.  Thur- 
ber  with  true  professional  cautiousness. 

Lee  telephoned  Mrs.  Curran  and  Howard  Doman  that 
night,  and  caught  the  early  morning  train  for  Chatham. 

His  mother  was  already  very  weak. 

He  stooped  to  kiss  her — then,  at  the  sight  of  her  lying  all 
alone  in  the  bare,  chilly  bedroom,  he  suddenly  started  crying. 

His  mother  looked  up  at  him  in  perplexity.  "Why-^ 
what's  the  matter?  Nothing  much  wrong  with  me.  I'll 
be  up  and  around  inside  of  two  days." 

Dr.  Thurber  came  soon  afterwards.  Lee  detected  a 
specious  gaiety  in  the  physician's  manner,  and  followed  him 
out  to  his  rig  in  the  street. 

"What  about  it,  Doc?"  he  importuned,  "I  want  the  real 
facts." 

The  old  physician's  face  showed  grey  with  fatigue.  He 
had  been  out  in  the  country  all  night  on  a  confinement  case. 

"Well,  I  dunno,  boy,"  he  hesitated,  as  he  unhitched  his 
horse.  "Looks  pretty  bad.  Trouble  is,  your  mother  wa'n't 
in  very  good  shape  to  start  with." 

"But  see  here,  Doc!"  Lee  exclaimed.  "I  want  everything 
in  the  world  done  for  her.  If  there  are  any  other  good 
doctors  around  here,  get  them  in  to  consult  with  you.  And 
I  want  a  nurse.  My  mother  shouldn't  be  lying  there  all 
alone  that  way." 

"Nurse?"  said  Dr.  Thurber.  "There  ain't  a  good  one 
this  side  of  Jackson.  Maybe  I  can  get  hold  of  Mrs.  Peters. 
She  knows  something  'baout  nursin'."  He  climbed  into  his 
mud-spattered  buggy.  "I'll  look  'raound  again  to-night, 
boy." 

Late  that  afternoon,  Lee  was  summoned  to  the  hotel  for 
a  long  distance  telephone  call. 

It  proved  to  be  Mrs.  Curran,  in  search  of  the  latest  news. 

He  told  her,  brokenly,  what  the  situation  was. 


THE  GROPER  163 

"Just  what  I  thought,"  she  said  in  the  decided  way  he 
knew  so  well.  "I  know  all  about  pneumonia,  and  nine-tenths 
of  the  battle  is  the  proper  sort  of  care.  I'm  going  to  send 
over  Dr.  Polk  and  the  best  nurse  in  Detroit  on  the  morning 
train." 

Lee  walked  back  to  his  mother's  house  feeling  more  cheer- 
ful than  he  had  all  day.  He  was  ashamed  for  any  vague 
stirrings  of  resentment  that  had  crept  into  his  attitude 
toward  Mrs.  Curran.  She  was  a  splendid  woman.  He 
admired  her  decisiveness.  And  it  was  apparent  that  she 
cared  a  great  deal  for  him. 

Lee  explained  the  new  development  to  Dr.  Thurber  as 
diplomatically  as  possible,  fearing  to  hurt  the  old  physician's 
feelings. 

"Glad  to  hear  it,"  said  the  doctor.  "Those  city  chaps 
have  a  chance  to  keep  more  brushed  up  on  things  than  us 
country  fellows.  Besides,  it  sort  of  takes  the  responsibility 
off  my  shoulders." 

Dr.  Polk  arrived  the  next  noon,  a  brusque,  important- 
looking  specialist  in  diseases  of  the  lungs. 

"Open  all  these  windows,"  was  his  first  sharp  command 
as  he  entered  Mrs.  Hillquit's  bedroom. 

Lee  was  very  much  relieved  when  the  two  physicians 
decided  to  be  friendly.  Dr.  Polk  left  explicit  directions,  and 
took  the  afternoon  train  back  to  Detroit.  The  nurse,  who 
had  come  with  him,  remained  in  the  sick  room. 

"About  a  twenty-five  per  cent,  chance,"  was  the  special- 
ist's curt  verdict  to  Lee,  just  before  Dr.  Thurber  drove  him 
to  the  station.  "In  the  hospital,  she'd  have  almost  an  even 
show." 

His  mother  seemed  alternately  amused  and  troubled  by 
all  this  attention. 

"You're  awfully  good  to  me,"  she  told  him,  "but  it  ain't 
a  bit  necessary  to  go  to  all  this  expense.  I'll  be  on  my 
feet  before  the  end  of  the  week." 


ii64  THE  GROPER 

This  was  on  Wednesday.  On  Thursday,  she  became  un- 
conscious. Shortly  before  daybreak  Saturday  morning,  the 
nurse  woke  him  up  with  the  news  that  his  mother  was  dying. 

The  little  bedroom  seemed  more  forlorn  than  ever  in  the 
dim  light  from  the  shaded  oil-lamp. 

"There's  nothing  more  I  can  do  for  the  present,"  explained 
the  tired  nurse.  "She  may  live  several  hours.  When  there's 
any  change,  call  me." 

Lee  sat  down  by  the  bedside  and  waited. 

His  mother  looked  so  natural  that  he  could  hardly  believe 
the  nurse's  pronouncement.  Her  cheeks  were  very  pale,  but 
otherwise  she  seemed  the  same  age-defying,  undemonstra- 
tive New  Englander.  Thoughts  of  her  tremendous  self- 
sacrifices  rushed  over  him — her  love  for  him,  her  rare 
revelations  of  tenderness,  her  determination  that  he  should 
go  through  college.  And  now  she  was  dying — before  ho 
had  achieved  a  real  start  toward  making  her  old  age  com- 
fortable— toward  repaying  in  some  measure  the  devotion  of 
all  those  years.  Bitter  remorse  for  his  countless  sins  of 
inconsiderateness,  of  neglect,  sought  out  his  heart. 

The  infinite  pathos  of  it!  A  hot  tear  struck  the  back  of 
his  hand.  It  seemed  to  him  his  mother  had  never  had  a 
fair  chance  in  life.  Self-repression  had  been  her  enforced 
lot  during  most  of  her  days.  He  wondered  dimly — if  a  little 
more  opportunity  for  joyousness,  for  radiant  self-expression 
had  come  into  her  young  womanhood — just  how  different 
an  individual  she  would  have  been  in  the  later  years. 

The  Scheme  of  Things  was  malignantly,  cruelly  unjust. 

A  rooster  crowed  arrogantly  in  the  distance,  and  the  first 
faint  prophecy  of  dawn  challenged  the  lamp-light. 

His  mother  gave  a  little  complaining  cry — as  if  an  un- 
pleasant dream  were  troubling  her. 

Lee  smoothed  her  forehead  with  his  hand. 

At  his  touch,  a  smile  trembled  on  the  corners  of  het 
mouth.    A  smile  that  was  girlish,  whimsical,  almost  mis- 


THE  GROPER  165 

chievous — as  if  she  were  in  the  possession  of  some  deeply 
humorous  secret,  which  he  could  never  hope  to  know. 

Soon  afterwards  she  died. 

When  Lee  arrived  in  Detroit  five  nights  later,  Mrs. 
Holmes  told  him  that  Bob  Hamilton  had  mysteriously  dis- 
appeared several  days  before,  taking  his  trunk  with  him. 

"He  left  a  letter  upstairs  for  you,"  she  said.  "Course, 
you  know,  Mr.  Hilton,  I'll  have  to  hold  you  responsible  for 
all  the  rent  from  now  on,"  she  added  apprehensively. 

Lee  climbed  the  stairway,  closed  the  door  of  his  room, 
lighted  the  gas  table-lamp  and  slowly  read  Bob's  note,  writ- 
ten in  the  bold,  uncompromising  chirography  his  room-mate 
took  such  pride  in: 

"Dear  old  Lee: 

"I  can't  hold  out  any  longer.  The  realisation  that  I'm  a 
failure  is  too  hard  to  stand.  So  I'm  quitting.  Dropping 
out  of  sight.    Don't  waste  any  time  worrying  about  me. 

"Please  make  up  some  yarn  for  the  store  people.  I  didn't 
tell  them  I  was  leaving.  I  suppose  everybody  will  wonder. 
I've  written  the  folks  at  home,  so  they  won't  bother  you. 

"You've  been  a  true  friend,  Lee,  and  I  want  you  to  know 
I'll  never  forget  it 

"Bob." 


LEE  had  been  greatly  surprised,  in  going  through  his 
mother's  few  effects,  to  come  upon  a  life  insurance 
policy  for  five  thousand  dollars,  in  which  his  mother 
had  nominated  him  as  sole  beneficiary.  He  could  not  help 
marvelling  at  the  thrift  that  had  enabled  her  to  keep  up  the 
premiums  during  the  last  few  years. 

A  month  later,  he  sold  the  house  for  a  thousand  dollars. 
This  gave  him  a  princely  capital  of  six  thousand  dollars.  Its 
effect  upon  his  mental  viewpoint  was  remarkable.  The  mere 
knowledge  that  he  had  so  much  money  in  the  bank  afforded 
him  a  certain  elation,  a  new  feeling  of  self-assurance.  In- 
voluntarily, he  threw  out  his  chest  a  little  farther.  It 
seemed  incredible  that  he  had  been  so  poor  eight  short 
months  ago. 

As  an  investor,  however,  he  was  the  veriest  amateur.  He 
would  doubtless  have  contented  himself  with  the  three-and-a- 
half  per  cent,  that  the  savings  bank  paid  him,  save  for 
the  fact  that  he  inadvertently  mentioned  his  new  wealth 
to  Mrs.  Curran. 

"I  shouldn't  leave  it  in  the  bank  another  day,"  she 
advised  with  her  characteristic  incisiveness. 

"But  I  don't  know  what  to  do  with  it,"  he  confessed. 

Mrs.  Curran  considered  the  problem  for  a  moment. 
"Well,  you  can  always  get  six  per  cent,  on  your  money, 
either  from  bonds  or  mortgages.  That's  what  the  bank  is 
doing  with  your  money.  But  you're  a  young  man — with  no 
one  dependent  on  you.  You  can  afford  to  take  a  chance, 
with  a  part  of  your  money  at  least." 

"But  just  where  am  I  to  invest  it?"  pursued  Lee. 

166 


THE  GROPER  167 

"Why,  there  are  dozens  of  splendid  chances  lying  around," 
she  retorted.  "You're  like  nearly  everybody  else.  You're 
blind  to  Detroit's  tremendous  future.  This  city  is  just 
beginning  to  wake  up.  Automobiles  aren't  a  fad.  They've 
come  to  stay.  And  Detroit  is  the  hub  of  the  whole  auto- 
mobile business.  Yet  the  average  Detroiter  goes  droning 
along,  satisfied  with  things  as  they  are — absolutely  dead  to 
what's  in  the  very  air.  But  to  the  few  people  with  vision 
and  a  little  nerve,  all  this  preliminary  bustle  means  an 
enormous  growth.  I  tell  you,  Lee,  Detroit  is  going  to 
double  in  size  within  the  next  ten  years;  and  that  means 
wealth  to  every  wise  investor." 

She  tapped  the  arm  of  the  davenport  with  her  small, 
black  fan.  "Now  in  your  case — why  not  invest,  say  half 
of  your  money,  in  real  estate.  Downtown  real  estate.  Of 
course,  you  can't  touch  any  Woodward  avenue  frontage, 
but  some  of  the  side  streets,  like  Broadway  or  Bagley,  or 
even  Woodward  avenue  three  or  four  blocks  above  the  Park 
— they're  quite  possible.  Buy  on  time — ten  or  fifteen  per 
cent,  down — just  as  much  frontage  as  you  can  get  for  your 
three  thousand  dollars.  You  can  save  enough  from  your 
salary  to  keep  up  the  payments.  You  can't  go  wrong.  I 
shouldn't  be  surprised  if  all  downtown  property  tripled  in 
value  in  three  years.  That  would  mean  over  a  thousand 
per  cent,  profit  to  you.  At  any  rate,  you  can't  lose.  It's 
a  perfectly  safe  investment." 

Lee  listened  spell-bound  as  Mrs.  Curran  unrolled  this 
alluring  vista  before  his  eyes. 

"With  your  other  three  thousand,  you  can  afford  to  take 
a  chance,"  she  went  on.  "Personally,  I  think  there's  still 
time  to  get  in  on  the  automobile  business.  I  own  stock 
in  two  companies  already,  and  I'm  planning  on  a  third." 

This  third  company,  she  explained,  was  just  in  process 
of  organisation.  A  young  Detroit  automobile  worker,  Alfred 
Durham,  had  evolved  a  new  design  for  a  car,  and  was  strug- 


468  THE  GROPER 

gling  to  finance  a  company.  After  more  than  a  year's  dis- 
couraging effort,  he  had  secured  stock  subscriptions  of  forty 
thousand  dollars — part  of  them  to  be  paid  in  automobile 
parts.  Durham  needed  twenty  thousand  dollars  more.  Mrs. 
Curran  planned  to  put  in  ten  thousand. 

"Of  course  it's  a  gamble,"  she  admitted.  "Durham  has 
what  looks  like  an  original  design.  Two  of  his  ideas  I  like 
very  much:  the  low  price  of  the  car;  and  the  fact  that  there 
will  be  just  one  model.  He's  counting  on  a  large  output, 
with  a  small  profit  on  each  car — which  is  certainly  good 
sense.  But  whether  he  has  any  business  head,  I  don't  know. 
I  suspect  some  of  us  will  have  to  watch  him  pretty  closely." 

Lee  was  by  nature  somewhat  timorous  about  money  mat- 
ters, and  his  first  six  months  in  Detroit  had  accentuated  this 
conservatism.  It  cost  him  an  unmistakable  pang  to  draw 
his  six  thousand  dollars  from  the  bank. 

Yet  he  could  not  fail  to  be  impressed  with  Mrs.  Curran's 
sound  business  judgment.  She  possessed  vision,  without 
seeming  visionary.  He  persuaded  himself  that  the  city  was 
on  the  threshhold  of  an  amazing  growth,  an  extraordinary 
boom. 

In  the  end,  he  took  thirty  one-hundred-dollar  shares  of 
stock  in  the  Durham  Motor  Car  Company,  with  an  option 
on  an  additional  twenty  shares.  After  some  investigation, 
he  paid  three  thousand  dollars  down  on  a  thirty-foot  Broad' 
way  frontage,  occupied  by  a  ramshackle  frame  dwelling, 
payment  of  the  balance  of  twenty-seven  thousand  dollars 
to  be  completed  within  five  years. 

At  times,  he  would  become  almost  panic-stricken  at  the 
thought  of  his  new  obligations.  To  save  his  life,  he  could 
not  see  where  the  necessary  money  was  coming  from.  Short- 
ly after  Bob  Hamilton's  disappearance,  he  had  taken  two 
small  rooms  in  a  Jefferson  avenue  apartment-hotel.  His 
meals  and  his  clothing  were  both  costing  him  more.  His 
whole  scale  of  living  had  assumed  a  higher  plane.    He  gave 


THE  GROPER  169 

every  outward  evidence  of  being  a  prosperous  and  successful 
young  business  man. 

That  winter  also  marked  Lee's  first  timid  approach  to 
the  outer  fringes  of  that  sacred  preserve  labelled  "Society." 
And  oddly  enough,  it  was  Mrs.  Curran  who  stood  sponsor 
for  him. 

"I  think  you  ought  to  know  some  nice  people,"  was  her 
abrupt  introduction  of  the  subject.  "Some  nice  girls,  for 
example." 

Lee  was  taken  wholly  unawares.  The  prospect  roused 
vague,  pleasurable  curiosities  in  him. 

"But  why?"  he  thought  it  behooved  him  to  inquire. 

"Because  it's  natural  that  you  should  want  to  know  some 
younger  people.  No,  I  shan't  be  jealous,"  she  smiled,  at 
his  gestured  protest.  "Also,  it  will  stop  any  silly  talk  about 
you  and  me." 

"Let  them  talk!"  Lee  defied  with  meretricious  boldness. 

"So  you  still  believe  in  running  your  head  against  stone 
walls?"  She  became  more  serious.  "No,  my  dear,  my  way 
is  much  better — really.  You'll  learn  to  make  compromises, 
too,  some  day.  And  our  love  is  so  fine,  so  secure,  that  I 
shan't  worry  at  all  about  losing  you." 

It  occurred  to  him  that  he  was  still  in  mourning. 

"I  know,"  she  agreed.  "It  would  hardly  be  good  form  for 
you  to  go  to  dances,  for  example.  But  there  are  other 
things,  not  quite  so  gay." 

Lee  made  his  debut  at  Mrs.  Curran's  reception  on  New 
Year's  afternoon.  He  felt  very  gauche  most  of  the  time. 
The  big,  old-fashioned  house  was  jammed  with  people  he 
had  never  seen  before,  and  he  fancied  that  every  one  was 
looking  askance  at  him.  Most  of  the  men  wore  frock  coats. 
Lee's  business  suit  was  manifestly  in  bad  taste.  The  women 
impressed  him  as  being  splendid,  but  explosive. 

The  excuse  for  the  reception  was  Mrs.  Curran's  niece, 
Miss  Barbara  Mayo.    Lee  took  his  place  in  the  line  feeling 


170  THE  GROPER 

more  out  of  place  than  ever.  He  discovered  that  he  had 
no  gloves  on  his  hands. 

Finally  he  reached  the  reception  line.  A  tall,  bald-headed 
major-domo  next  to  Mrs.  Curran  asked  him  his  name.  But 
before  he  could  answer,  Mrs.  Curran  saw  him. 

"How  do  you  do?"  she  greeted  him  warmly.  "Barbara, 
let  me  present  Mr.  Hillquit." 

Miss  Mayo,  resplendent  in  pink,  retained  her  consciously 
arch  smile.  ^ 

"Not  the  Mr.  Hillquit?"  she  importuned. 

Before  Lee  could  investigate  this  interesting  inquiry,  he 
was  shunted  on  past  the  receiving  line. 

He  hovered  about  miserably  for  a  time,  dashing  to  and 
from  the  punch-bowl  with  an  air  of  just  having  left  some 
one. 

At  last  the  reception  line  dissolved,  and  he  sought  out 
Mrs.  Curran. 

"There  are  some  people  I  want  you  to  meet,"  she  said 
presently. 

He  was  introduced  to  a  stout,  voluble  woman  and  her 
two  daughters. 

"Do  you  dance,  Mr.  Hillquit?"  asked  Mrs.  Jack  Reynolds. 

Lee  explained. 

"Too  bad."  Mrs.  Reynolds  shook  her  head.  "Renee  is 
giving  a  party  on  the  sixteenth." 

He  was  quite  overwhelmed  with  both  girls;  but  Renee 
Reynolds  was  much  more  striking  than  her  sister.  Betty 
Reynolds'  neck  was  obviously  long,  he  detected.  Renee  had 
a  sparkling,  vivacious  quality.  Her  eyes  were  provocative, 
her  teeth  a  flash  of  white.  He  suspected  that  the  high 
color  of  her  cheeks  was  partly  artificial,  but  somehow  the 
rouge  went  well  with  the  rest  of  her,  enhanced  the  vivid 
contrast  between  her  skin  and  the  white  furs  about  her 
throat. 

Unmistakably,  she  was  everything  a  "Society  girl"  should 


THE  GROPER  171 

be.  It  seemed  unbelievable  that  they  should  be  talking 
together  in  this  easy  way.  More  than  that,  Miss  Renee's 
manner  evinced  that  she  found  him  interesting.  She  stood 
quite  close,  and  chatted  gaily  up  at  him.  Lee's  manner 
became  more  ingratiating.  He  even  essayed  a  clever  epi- 
gram or  two,  and  found  her  prompt  mirth  both  gratifying 
and  adorable. 

At  length  he  had  a  sudden  inexplicable  instinct  to  look 
around.  His  quick  glance  caught  Mrs.  Curran  regarding 
him  intently  from  across  the  room.  But  before  he  could 
decipher  her  expression,  she  returned  her  attention  to  the 
small  knot  of  people  about  her. 

Simultaneously  two  impeccable  youths  swooped  down  on 
Renee  Reynolds.  Their  playful  manner  revealed  that  they 
knew  her  very  well. 

"What  time  did  you  break  away  last  night,  Freddie?" 

"Who  is  the  girl  over  there  with  Jim  Studdiford?" 

"How  perfectly  screaming!" 

Such  bits  of  intelligence  made  Lee  realise  that  he  was 
by  no  means  a  certified  member  as  yet  of  that  fascinating 
and  superior  world  to  which  he  aspired. 

It  formed  no  part  of  the  three's  code  of  manners  to  talk 
about  general  topics,  so  that  he  might  join  in.  In  fact,  the 
two  young  men  may  be  said  to  have  ignored  him. 

Presently  he  excused  himself. 

"I'm  terribly  glad  to  have  met  you,"  said  Renee.  "I 
hope  I'll  see  you  again  soon." 

When  he  said  good-bye  to  Mrs.  Curran,  she  looked  at  him 
with  what  appeared  to  be  casual  interest.  "How  did  you 
like  the  Reynolds  girls?" 

Lee  hesitated  between  enthusiasm  and  lukewarmth.  "They 
seemed  very  nice,"  he  compromised. 

"They  are  nice,"  she  corroborated.  "Not  very  much 
money,  I  guess,  but  nice.  Betty  came  out  three  years  ago, 
and  Renee  two."     She  shook  her  head  in  mock  alarm. 


172  THE  GROPER 

"Better  watch  out!  Brilliant  young  business  men  like  you 
aren't  any  too  safe." 

In  spite  of  his  protests,  Lee  was  pleased. 

A  week  later,  he  received  an  invitation  to  Renee  Reynolds' 
house-dance. 

"But  I  told  her  mother  I  wasn't  dancing  this  winter,"  he 
objected  to  Mrs.  Curran. 

His  patroness  smiled  enigmatically.  "I  said  the  same 
thing  to  Mrs.  Reynolds  when  she  'phoned  me  for  your 
address.  But  an  invitation,  whether  accepted  or  declined, 
presupposes  a  party  call.  I'm  really  afraid  you'll  have  to 
go  and  see  Miss  Renee." 

This  impressed  Lee  as  a  pleasant  necessity,  though  he 
did  not  say  so. 

In  due  time,  he  made  his  first  call  at  the  Reynolds'  home. 
He  tingled  with  self-consciousness;  it  seemed  an  event  of 
vast  portent. 

The  inexplicable  part  of  the  evening  was  Renee's  obvious 
good  opinion  of  him.  She  was  too  simple-minded — or  too 
gracious — to  comprehend  the  vast  gulf  that  yawned  between 
herself,  a  "Society  girl,"  and  her  caller,  a  mere  outsider. 

Her  chief  conversational  purpose  related  to  the  discovery 
of  mutual  friends.  Lee  was  ashamed  to  admit  his  woeful 
lack  of  acquaintance  with  people  whom  impliedly  he  should 
have  known.  It  cost  him  a  pang,  also,  to  confess  that  he 
had  not  been  a  fraternity  man  at  the  University. 

In  an  attempt  to  rehabilitate  his  standing,  he  swallowed 
his  pride  and  mentioned  Fred  Badger. 

"Oh,  do  you  know  Fred?"  Renee  dimpled.  "And  have 
you  met  Helene  Rutgers,  the  girl  he's  engaged  to?" 

Lee  was  compelled  to  divulge  his  ignorance  of  Fred's 
engagement,  but  he  was  aware  that  the  mere  mention  of 
his  former  friend's  name  had  helped  his  case. 

When  he  took  his  leave,  he  felt  that  he  had  made  con- 
siderable progress. 


THE  GROPER  [173 

"Do  you  play  bridge?"  Renee  asked. 

He  professed  a  slovenly  game. 

"I  doubt  that."  She  held  out  her  hand.  "Anyway,  I'm 
going  to  call  you  up  some  time  when  I  want  an  extra  man." 

Later  on,  at  Mrs.  Curran's  suggestion,  he  took  Renee  to 
the  theatre  and  a  concert.  It  amazed  him  that  she  should 
be  willing  to  risk  her  social  standing  by  appearing  with 
him.  Not  only  that — she  actually  seemed  delighted  to 
accept  his  invitations.  Somehow  it  added  to  his  stature. 
Perhaps  he  had  been  underestimating  himself  socially — just 
as  he  had  formerly  belittled  his  business  ability.  Perhaps— 
miraculously  enough — he  had  the  makings  of  a  "Society 
man"  within  himself. 

From  then  on,  he  called  once  or  twice  a  month  at  the 
Reynolds'  house.  And  one  unforgettable  evening,  Renee 
and  he  began  calling  each  other  by  their  first  names. 

But  these  calls  by  no  means  completed  the  cycle  of  Lee's 
social  activities. 

"If  I  were  you,"  advised  Mrs.  Curran,  "I  shouldn't 
devote  myself  exclusively  to  Renee  Reynolds.  In  Detroit, 
it  requires  ridiculously  little  to  start  engagement  rumors.* 

So  Lee  made  a  few  dutiful  calls  on  Miss  Barbara  Mayo, 
whose  interest  in  him  never  passed  the  languid  stage.  Nev- 
ertheless, she  did  invite  him  to  a  very  small  and  select 
dinner-and- theatre  party;  and  Lee,  for  the  first  time  in  his 
life,  had  the  indescribable  thrill  of  seeing  his  name  in  the 
sacred  column  labelled  "Society."  Every  newspaper  in  the 
city  displayed  the  news.  A  dozen  of  his  acquaintances  at 
the  store— with  new  respect  in  their  eyes— told  him  they 
had  read  of  the  important  event.  And  Lee,  remembering 
the  eagerness  with  which  he  had  scanned  the  self-same  col- 
umn only  a  year  ago,  could  well  understand  their  awe. 


VI 

THE  printed  announcement  of  Miss  Barbara  Mayo's 
theatre  party  had  at  least  one  other  distinct  after- 
math.   At  least  Lee  always  connected  the  two  hap- 
penings. 

It  was  but  two  days  later  when  he  recognised  Fred 
Badger's  cordial  accents  on  the  telephone. 

"Where  in  the  world  have  you  been  keeping  yourself? " 
he  demanded.  "It's  a  wonder  you  wouldn't  let  your  friends 
see  you  once  in  a  while." 

"I  guess  you  know  why  I  haven't  looked  you  up,"  Lee 
recovered  himself  sufficiently  to  retort. 

Fred  expressed  complete  perplexity,  and  when  Lee  con- 
tinued evasive,  he  came  up  to  the  office. 

Finally,  Lee  reminded  him  of  the  painful  incident  at  the 
symphony  concert. 

Fred's  aggressive  face  indicated  pained  incredulity.  "Do 
you  mean  to  say  you  thought  I  intentionally  cut  you?" 

It  did  seem  rather  preposterous.  "But  I  spoke  to  you, 
and  you  looked  right  at  me,"  justified  Lee. 

"So  that  was  why  you  dropped  me."  Fred  seemed  very 
much  cut  up  over  Lee's  poor  opinion  of  him.  "Well,  I 
give  you  my  word  of  honor  I  didn't  hear  you  and  didn't 
see  you." 

Some  considerable  fraction  of  Lee's  faculties  remained 
unconvinced.  A  new,  calculating  instinct,  however,  bade 
him  accept  the  olive  branch.  Fred's  friendship  would  be 
of  intrinsic  value;  he  could  help  Lee  both  socially  and  in 
business. 

174 


THE  GROPER  175 

Lee  held  out  his  hand.  "It's  all  over  now  anyway,  Fred," 
he  announced.  "I  understand  you're  to  be  congratulated — 
on  your  engagement,  I  mean." 

Fred  seemed  pleased.  "Can't  you  come  to  lunch  with 
me?"  he  inquired.    "I'll  tell  you  all  about  it." 

He  took  Lee  to  the  University  Club,  and  dilated  upon 
his  plans  with  his  old  frankness.  From  his  description,  Lee 
identified  Helene  Rutgers  as  the  resplendent  young  woman 
he  had  seen  at  the  symphony  concert. 

"She  belongs  to  one  of  the  five  best  families  in  Detroit," 
Fred  asserted.  "There  were  at  least  ten  other  men  after 
her.    You  must  meet  her  sometime." 

"The  last  time  I  saw  you,"  Lee  ventured,  "you  were  in 
favor  of  picking  out  a  girl  with  money." 

"Money,  or  social  position,"  corrected  Fred.  "Helene 
hasn't  any  money,  but  she  has  relatives  who  are  in  the 
millionaire  class."  He  knocked  off  his  cigar  ash.  "By  the 
way,  I'm  glad  you  followed  my  advice  and  broke  off  things 
with  that  girl  in  your  home  town." 

Lee  flushed.    "Who  told  you  that?" 

"Nobody  told  me."  Fred  laughed.  "If  you  were  still 
engaged,  I  guess  you  wouldn't  be  travelling  around  with 
Barbara  Mayo  and  Cutie  Reynolds." 

Lee's  flush  became  one  of  pleasure.  Evidently  his  suc- 
cesses were  matters  of  common  knowledge.  He  hoped  Fred 
didn't  know  about  Mrs.  Curran.  And  he  wondered  why  he 
referred  to  Renee  as  "Cutie." 

Fred  talked  incessantly  about  his  forthcoming  marriage. 
Lee  could  not  help  noticing  that  his  friend  did  not  once 
speak  of  Helene  in  terms  of  real  affection.  The  investment 
aspect  of  the  matter  seemed  uppermost  in  his  mind;  how 
enormously  Helene's  relatives  could  help  him  in  business. 
This,  and  the  impressiveness  of  his  achievement  in  out- 
distancing all  other  competitors  for  her  hand. 

After  that,  Fred  talked  still  more  of  himself;  about  the 


176  THE  GROPER 

remarkable  bond  sales  he  was  "putting  over";  how  shrewd 
a  "trader"  he  had  become.  Older  bond  salesmen  might 
strive  in  vain  to  "cut  in"  on  him. 

"I'm  just  like  a  rubber  ball,"  Fred  illustrated.  "The 
minute  they  think  they  have  me  down,  up  I  bounce  again." 

Lee  discounted  Fred's  estimate  of  himself  very  little.  It 
seemed  to  him  that  his  friend  must  be  well-nigh  irresistible; 
and  Fred's  handsome,  forceful  appearance  and  his  notice- 
ably modish  clothes  corroborated  his  claims  to  prosperity. 
In  comparison,  Lee's  own  success  appeared  hardly  worth 
mentioning. 

"And  by  the  way,"  Fred  mentioned  casually,  "if  you  or 
any  of  your  friends  ever  have  any  money  that  isn't  working, 
I  can  probably  get  you  in  on  the  ground  floor  of  some  good 
proposition." 

Lee  thanked  him.  He  was  almost  sorry  he  had  invested 
in  real  estate  and  automobile  stocks,  so  alluring  did  his 
friend's  account  of  the  financial  world  sound  to  him. 

Fred's  flattering  display  of  friendship  did  not  cease  with 
the  lunch  at  the  University  Club.  A  few  Sundays  later,  he 
took  Lee  to  tea  at  his  fiance's  house. 

Helene  Rutgers  lived  in  a  brick  house  on  Jefferson 
avenue.  The  house  itself  was  far  from  being  prepossessing; 
but  by  this  time  Lee  had  absorbed  the  idea  that  people 
could  live  in  any  sort  of  a  structure  they  wanted  to,  as  long 
as  they  possessed  that  elusive  something  called  "social  posi- 
tion." He  was  prepared  to  be  impressed  with  the  house 
and  all  of  its  appurtenances.  The  very  fact  that  it  was 
occupied  by  such  exclusive  people  lent  it  an  air  of  majesty. 

Helene  Rutgers  herself  was  by  no  means  beautiful,  some- 
what to  his  surprise.  Her  face  was  thin,  and  her  features 
unmistakably  sharp.  Her  small  mouth  sagged  a  little  at 
the  corners.  Her  eyes  had  a  tendency  to  stare.  Yet  Lee 
vaguely  realised  at  once  that  she  had  "style."    Her  coiffure, 


THE  GROPER  177 

for  example,  was  simple,  but  indefinably  effective.  Her 
gown  had  "lines." 

Her  manner  toward  Lee — in  fact,  toward  every  one — ■ 
was  indolent,  slightly  bored.  She  permitted  herself  no 
enthusiasms.  She  endured  the  naivete,  the  ingenuousness, 
of  younger  or  less  perfectly  cultured  persons  with  languid 
tolerance. 

This  must  be  the  mark  of  good  breeding,  Lee  concluded. 
It  occurred  to  him  that  Renee  Reynolds'  vivacity  might 
conceivably  be  bad  taste. 

It  became  apparent  that  the  Rutgers'  house  was  a  meeting 
place  for  fashionables.  At  least  a  dozen  people  dropped  in 
for  tea.  Lee  found  it  almost  impossible  to  manipulate  his 
cup,  saucer  and  plate  with  any  degree  of  deftness,  and  he 
committed  the  embarrassing  mistake  of  rising  when  the  maid 
offered  him  cake.  Otherwise,  he  acquitted  himself  with 
passable  credit. 

Every  time  a  newcomer  arrived,  there  was  a  re-grouping 
of  the  tea-drinkers.  After  a  time,  Lee  found  himself  sitting 
next  to  a  girl  whom  he  could  not  recall  having  met. 

"Never  mind  trying  to  remember  my  name,"  she  sur- 
prised him  by  saying.  "Fred  completely  forgot  to  introduce 
you — the  darling  boy!" 

There  was  so  much  venom  in  her  last  words  that  Lee,  for 
the  first  time  that  afternoon,  was  shocked  clear  out  of  his 
self-consciousness. 

He  stared  at  the  girl.  As  far  as  externals  went,  it  was 
obvious  that  she  "belonged."  She  was  nice-looking,  he 
decided.  Her  blue  eyes  did  not  impress  him  as  beautiful, 
but  they  were  at  least  clear  and  unequivocal.  He  liked  her 
nose:  it  was  perfectly  straight  and  it  came  out  from  her 
forehead  at  precisely  the  proper  angle.  She  had  a  good, 
firm  mouth — perhaps  a  little  too  wide. 

But  her  expression  was  decidedly  cynical,  and  she  was 
evidently  a  rather  disagreeable  person. 


178  THE  GROPER 

"What  do  you  do  for  a  living — make  automobiles?"  she 
demanded. 

Lee  determined  to  maintain  the  social  amenities  at  all 
costs. 

"No,  I'm  only  an  advertising  man,"  he  said. 

Genuine  interest  lighted  up  her  face  for  an  instant. 
"That's  a  relief!  Every  new  man  one  meets  nowadays  is 
in  the  automobile  business.  What's  more,  he  knows  nothing 
but  automobiles — can  talk  nothing  but  automobiles.  I  get 
so  sick  of  it." 

What  was  the  matter  with  the  girl?  Lee  looked  at  her 
uneasily,  and  wished  that  some  one  might  come  to  relieve 
him.  He  perceived  Fred  Badger  watching  him  out  of  the 
corner  of  his  eye. 

"Awfully  attractive  tea-party,"  he  remarked  inanely. 

"Yes,  isn't  it?"  She  laughed  contemptuously.  "Such 
original  and  intelligent  conversation!  Such  brainy  people! 
It's  all  so  sincere — so  free  from  hypocrisy — so  free  from 
banality!" 

At  the  first  opportunity,  Lee  made  inquiries  of  Fred 
Badger. 

"Oh,  that's  my  sister,  Eleanor,"  said  Fred  in  a  manner 
that  was  manifestly  apologetic.  "Don't  pay  any  attention 
to  what  she  says.    She's  been  having  queer  streaks  lately." 

Clearly  enough,  she  was  not  popular.  Lee  watched  her 
standing  a  little  apart  from  the  others — an  unhappy,  brood- 
ing and  openly  rebellious  spirit. 


vn 

IN  the  midst  of  such  social  achievements  and  business 
successes,  Lee  realised  all  at  once  how  repulsive  his 
relations  with  Mrs.  Curran  had  become. 

Yet  it  seemed  to  him  that  he  was  bound  to  her  by  a 
hundred  indissoluble  ties.  There  were  certain  material 
obligations,  such  as  her  influence  in  his  behalf  at  the  store 
and  her  sponsorship  for  him  socially.  But  more  than  this, 
she  had  been  kind  to  him  in  countless  intangible  ways — 
dispatching  the  specialist  and  nurse  to  his  mother's  bed- 
side, for  example.  Such  favors  could  neither  be  repaid  nor 
forgotten. 

He  had  known  Mrs.  Curran  just  a  year.  Nine  months 
had  passed  since  the  surprising  denouement  on  the  little 
side  porch.  At  first,  his  gratitude,  his  real  tenderness 
toward  her,  his  feeling  that  he  must  protect  her  from  ma- 
licious gossip,  had  combined  to  cloak  the  purely  physical. 
Mrs.  Curran  herself  laid  the  accent  on  the  spiritual,  to  start 
with;  and  if  she  had  persisted  in  this  strain,  Lee's  feelings 
might  never  have  suffered  their  present  painful  revulsion. 
But  by  fall,  she  talked  little  of  the  fineness  of  exalted  love. 
She  seemed  to  take  their  relationship  as  an  established  fact. 
Lee  began  to  suspect,  in  a  horrified  way,  that  her  plea  of 
spirituality  had  been  a  pretence  from  the  beginning.  Even 
her  voice  took  on  a  new  physical  flavor;  her  touch  subtly 
gave  the  lie  to  her  diminishing  professions  of  highminded- 
ness;  her  manner  became  slightly  proprietorial. 

His  sense  of  obligation  to  her  accentuated  the  odium  of 
the  situation.    She  still  held  his  fortunes  in  the  hollow  of 

179 


180  THE  GROPER 

her  hand.  He  began  to  think  of  their  relations  as  the  price 
of  his  success.  A  profound  sense  of  physical  degradation 
tormented  him — tainted  the  pleasure  he  felt  in  his  work, 
clouded  his  elation  over  his  social  achievements. 

A  dozen  times,  perhaps,  he  brought  himself  to  the  point 
of  breaking  things  off,  but  each  time  his  resolutions  wilted 
miserably.  Mrs.  Curran's  enmity  might  prove  a  serious 
thing.  Suppose,  for  example,  she  brought  about  his  dis- 
charge at  the  store.  That  would  mean  he  could  make  no 
more  payments  on  his  real  estate,  would  forfeit  the  money 
he  had  already  invested.  His  stock  in  the  Durham  Motor 
Car  Company  had  no  value  as  yet.  With  his  position  gone 
and  his  capital  wiped  out,  he  would  be  compelled  to  begin 
the  disheartening  fight  with  poverty  all  over  again. 

But  to  his  credit,  this  fear  played  but  small  part  in  his 
irresolution.  He  still  felt  sincerely  grateful  to  Mrs.  Curran, 
and  at  times  he  liked  her  immensely.  Her  affectations  of 
girlishness  sickened  him,  yet  he  could  sense  the  pathos  of 
her  situation.  Like  most  men,  he  was  naturally  timid  in 
such  a  pass.  Somehow  he  could  not  bring  himself  to  hurting 
her  feelings.  He  was  largely  to  blame;  he  had  let  her 
think  he  loved  her  in  that  way. 

It  came  over  him  that  no  matter  how  he  loathed  his  role, 
he  must  keep  on  indefinitely,  smiling  and  playing  the  ardent, 
insatiable  lover.  And  he  forced  himself  to  do  so.  But  the 
process  seemed  to  squeeze  his  very  soul  dry,  to  leave  it 
arid  and  desolate. 

It  was  at  this  stage  that  Ellwood  James  once  more  bobbed 
serenely  into  his  life. 

Lee,  dining  in  lonesome  fashion  in  a  hotel  cafe  one  night, 
suddenly  felt  some  one's  hands  over  his  eyes. 

"Give  it  up,"  he  finally  said.  Then  he  recognised  Ell- 
wood's  laugh. 

"Having  dinner  all  alone?  What  luck!"  exclaimed  the 
effervescent  young  physician.    "D'  you  mind  if  I  join  you?" 


THE  GROPER  181 

Lee  roused  himself  from  his  mordid  thoughts.  Ellwood's 
spontaneity,  his  gaiety,  seemed  unspeakably  grateful. 

"My  word!  What's  the  matter  with  you,  old  top?"  the 
irrepressible  youth  demanded.    "You  look  all  in." 

Lee  blamed  over-work. 

"Go  on! "  derided  Ellwood.  "You've  been  crossed  in  love. 
Take  it  from  me,  Lee:  she  isn't  worth  it.  The  only  way 
to  forget  one  girl  is  to  take  up  with  another."  He  winked 
joyously.  "Or  are  you  still  as  sanctimonious  about  women 
as  ever?" 

Lee  made  no  reply,  but  his  companion's  philosophy  sank 
in.  He  looked  at  Ellwood  more  closely.  The  young  doctor 
seemed  as  carefree  and  happy-go-lucky  as  ever.  Lee 
searched  vainly  for  signs  of  dissipation.  Ellwood's  eyes, 
perhaps,  appeared  a  little  tired,  and  there  was  a  gossamer 
line  or  two  underneath.  Otherwise  he  was  more  radiantly 
youthful  than  ever. 

They  had  one  or  two  cocktails,  and  Lee's  spirits  rose. 
After  all,  Ellwood  was  a  likable  chap,  and  he  seemed  to 
admire  Lee  for  some  obscure  reason.  He  was  warm-hearted 
too,  and  generous.    He  took  Lee  out  of  himself. 

Presently  he  glanced  at  his  watch. 

"I  have  a  date,"  he  announced.  "What  about  it?  Shall 
we  make  it  a  foursome?" 

Lee  was  chiefly  conscious  of  a  dread  of  being  left  alone. 
He  nodded.    "Can  you  fix  it  without  much  trouble?" 

"Easiest  thing  I  do,"  the  young  doctor  asserted,  and 
Vanished  into  a  telephone  booth. 

Ellwood  had  a  new  touring  car,  it  developed,  in  place  of 
the  late,  lamented  "Lizzie."  "I  call  this  one  Gertrude,"  he 
puffed  as  he  spun  the  motor. 

"Gertrude"  proved  herself  far  speedier  than  her  pred- 
ecessor— and  considerably  more  commodious.  Ellwood  and 
his  girl  sat  on  the  front  seat ;  and  Lee  and  his  fair  companion 
had  the  tonneau  to  themselves. 


i82  THE  GROPER 

He  did  not  particularly  like  the  "extra  girl"  who  had  been 
secured  for  him,  but  Ellwood's  inamorata  made  an  immedi- 
ate impression  on  him.  She  was  very  young  looking  and  her 
eyes — what  he  had  seen  of  them — were  genuinely  attractive. 
Her  name  was  Dolores  McGovern. 

They  rode  around  in  desultory  fashion  for  an  hour  or 
two.  Ellwood  and  Dolores  kissed  each  other  frequently,  and 
when  the  traffic  was  light,  Ellwood  put  one  arm  around  her. 
Jheir  displays  of  affection  were  open  and  quite  unembar- 
rassed. Lee  became  restive.  He  rather  envied  Ellwood.  At 
the  same  time,  he  was  not  quite  sure  what  advances  he 
ought  to  make  toward  his  own  girl.  He  hated  not  coming 
up  to  expectations. 

"What  makes  you  two  so  quiet?"  Ellwood  demanded  and 
peered  around.  "Well,  would  you  look  at  them!"  he  ex- 
claimed.   "Why  don't  you  get  a  little  clubby?" 

Lee  ventured  to  put  his  arm  around  Miss  Pearl  Hoover. 
She  let  her  head  fall  on  his  shoulder  with  apparent  content- 
ment. 

"I  thought  you  didn't  like  me,"  she  said. 

The  implication  of  her  upturned  face  was  sufficiently 
clear,  and  he  kissed  her.  But  his  eyes  were  all  for  Dolores 
McGovern. 

Towards  ten  o'clock,  Ellwood  pointed  "Gertrude"  down- 
town.     » 

"Where'll  we  go?"  he  asked  them. 

Dolores  promptly  designated  the  hotel  cafe  where  Lee 
and  Ellwood  had  dined. 

Ellwood  appeared  hesitant.  "Oh,  I  don't  like  that  place. 
It's  so  dead.  You  can't  have  any  fun  there.  Let's  go  to 
'.The  Royal'." 

"  'The  Royal'! "  Dolores  received  the  suggestion  with  open 
contempt.    "Say,  listen!     What  do  you  take  me  for?" 

Ellwood  laughed.    "It's  always  suited  you  up  to  now." 

In  spite  of  her  repeated  refusals,  he  drove  the  machine  to 


THE  GROPER  I183 

"The  Royal,"  and  Dolores  finally  yielded.  But  she  seemed 
sullen  over  the  affair,  and  Ellwood  himself  developed  some 
asperity.    This  put  a  damper  on  the  party. 

"The  Royal"  was  noisy  and  crowded.  Ellwood  ordered 
two  rounds  of  cocktails,  and  Lee  was  inexplicably  relieved 
when  the  girls  refused  his  third  invitation.  His  ad- 
miration for  Dolores  continued  to  grow.  She  was  rather 
small  and  very  youthful — not  more  than  eighteen.  She  had 
finely  cut  features.  His  first  intimation  about  her  eyes 
proved  well  justified;  they  were  really  beautiful — a  soft 
grey.  And  she  had  personality.  She  was  not  negative,  like 
Lee's  girl.  After  her  first  sulkiness,  she  talked  a  great  deal, 
expressed  positive  opinions  about  everything  under  the  sun, 
and  displayed  a  lively  sense  of  humor. 

She  looked  at  Lee  in  an  impressed  way  that  sent  a  thrill 
through  him.  "I've  seen  you  somewhere  before,"  she 
declared. 

When  they  came  out  on  the  street,  Dolores  darted  into 
the  tonneau  seat. 

"Here!    Come  out  of  there!"  commanded  Ellwood. 

"Nothing  doing!"  asserted  Dolores.  "I'm  through  with 
you." 

"Don't  be  silly!"  interposed  Lee's  girl. 

Lee  was  silent  with  astonishment,  but  his  heart  was  beat- 
ing hard. 

Ellwood  hesitated.  "Oh,  very  well — suit  yourself!"  he 
said.    "You'll  ride  with  me,  won't  you,  Pearl?" 

Lee's  girl  seemed  not  unwilling  to  change  men.  She 
promptly  kissed  Ellwood,  and  they  all  started  off. 

Dolores  sat  close  to  Lee.  "I'm  off  Ellwood  James  for 
life,"  she  confided. 

"Why?"  asked  Lee. 

"Oh,  he  makes  me  sick,  taking  me  to  cheap  places.  The 
last  time  I  asked  him  to  take  me  to  the  hotel,  he  said  it 
might  hurt  my  reputation  to  be  seen  there — and  to-night, 


184  THE  GROPER 

he  says  it's  too  dead.  I'm  wise  to  him  bigger'n  a  house. 
He's  afraid  some  of  his  swell  girls  will  see  him  there  with 
me.  He's  a  nice  fellow  in  some  ways — only  he  thinks  he 
can  kiss  his  way  through  life,  I  guess." 

She  had  an  afterthought.    "Besides,  I  like  you  better." 

"I  wonder  where  I've  seen  you,"  she  went  on.  "Do  you 
go  to  the  Fellowship  Club  dances?" 

Lee  decided  it  was  her  extreme  youthfulness  that  appealed 
to  him  so  irresistibly. 

Ellwood  kissed  Pearl  good-night,  but  Lee  merely  shook 
hands  with  Dolores.  She  was  too  nice,  too  unusual,  for 
casual  familiarities. 

She  seemed  a  little  puzzled.  "Call  me  up  soon,"  she 
whispered. 

Ellwood  drove  away  silently. 

"Sorry  about  your  row  with  Dolores,"  Lee  propitiated. 

The  youthful  physician  smiled.  "Oh,  that's  all  right.  It 
wasn't  your  fault.  She's  an  attractive  kid,  but  too  damned 
stubborn.    Go  as  far  as  you  like.    I'm  done  with  her." 

"What  sort  of  a  girl  is  she?"  asked  Lee. 

"Oh,  all  girls  of  that  class  are  alike,"  Ellwood  set  forth. 
"Some  of  them  take  longer  than  others,  that's  all.  As  far 
as  Dolores  is  concerned — well,  you  can't  prove  anything  by 
me.  But  don't  you  go  getting  serious  about  her.  She's 
just  an  ordinary  little  Mick — darned  good  looking,  and  full 
of  the  devil — but  not  to  be  taken  hard." 

The  next  morning,  on  his  way  through  the  fur  department 
in  search  of  the  buyer,  Lee  ran  full  tilt  into  Dolores. 

"For  the  love  of  Mike!"  she  exclaimed.  "Do  you  work 
here  too?" 

Lee  nodded,  and  instinctively  looked  around.  There  was 
no  one  in  the  immediate  vicinity. 

Dolores  made  no  secret  of  her  disappointment.  "What 
department  you  in?" 

"Advertising." 


THE  GROPER  185 

"Oh!"  Her  relief  was  apparent.  "I  thought  maybe  you 
were  a  ribbon  clerk." 

Their  acquaintance  developed  rapidly.  For  a  time  Lee 
believed  he  was  in  love  with  her.  Her  youth,  her  real 
attractiveness  drew  him  to  her  mightily.  Their  love-making 
never  went  beyond  certain  fairly  innocent  bounds. 

Dolores  had  a  shrewd  code  of  ethics  all  her  own.  "I  have 
to  go  out  nights,"  she  insisted.  "If  I  stay  home,  I  just  get 
morbid.  A  girl  in  my  position  has  got  to  do  some  things, 
in  order  to  be  popular  with  fellows  at  all.  That's  one 
reason  I  like  to  go  out  with  you — it's  such  a  relief  to  be 
let  alone — not  to  be  pawed  over  every  minute." 

The  men  in  Detroit  were  "awful,"  she  thought.  "A  girl 
can't  walk  a  block  on  Woodward  avenue  without  three  or 
four  fish-faces  trying  to  pick  her  up.  And  they  all  want 
the  same  thing.  Sometimes  I'm  disgusted  with  myself — 
there  must  be  something  wrong  about  me  to  put  such  ideas 
in  men.  But  all  the  other  girls  have  the  same  trouble. 
Fellows  get  fresh  with  them  the  first  night  they  meet  them." 

"Innocence!"  she  burst  out  one  time.  "Say,  listen!  I 
guess  you  won't  find  any  of  that  around  this  burg."  Yet 
she  maintained  infrangible  rules  governing  men's  conduct 
toward  her.  They  might  go  so  far — in  fact,  she  rather 
expected  every  man  to  go  that  far.  But  beyond  a  certain 
line,  they  trespassed  at  their  peril.  "I  slapped  his  face 
for  him,"  she  said  of  one  young  insurance  agent.  She  cher- 
ished no  resentment  against  a  man  for  "getting  fresh"  once. 
"They  all  want  to  go  as  far  as  they  can,"  she  explained, 
"and  you  can't  blame  'em."  But  if  a  man  persisted,  she 
told  him  to  "beat  it." 

Lee  learned  unsuspected  aspects  of  life  at  the  Curran 
store.  "Mike"  Curran,  according  to  Dolores,  was  a  "bad 
one."  He  had  made  unmistakable  advances  to  many  of  the 
girls,  and  if  they  proved  stubborn,  it  was  "good-bye  to  their 
jobs."    Dolores  had  been  in  the  store  only  two  years,  and 


186  THE  GROPER 

"Mike's"  conduct  was  no  longer  so  intolerable.  "He's  get* 
ting  too  old,"  was  her  cynical  explanation  of  the  improve- 
ment. But  for  a  month  or  two,  when  she  first  came  to 
work,  he  had  made  life  miserable  for  her.  One  day,  he 
had  sent  her  up  to  the  deserted  stock  room  on  some  pretext, 
then  followed  her  and  tried  to  kiss  her. 

"I  told  him  I'd  scream  if  he  didn't  stop.  * Remember 
this,'  he  says,  Tm  paying  you  twelve  dollars  a  week,  and 
you're  only  worth  six.'  I  told  him  I  didn't  care  a  damn  for 
his  dirty  money,  and  to  let  me  out  of  that  room,  or  I'd 
tell  the  police.  He  said  I  was  a  little  fool,  but  he  finally 
let  me  go.  Next  week  he  cut  my  pay  to  eight  dollars,  and 
I've  never  had  a  raise  since." 

Other  men  around  the  store  were  "soft" — among  them 
Harrison  Estabrook.  But  they  were  all  easily  managed. 
"Stick  a  pin  into  a  man's  vanity,  and  you've  got  him  where 
you  want  him,"  she  said. 

Toward  men  in  general,  indeed,  her  attitude  was  one  of 
slightly  contemptuous  amusement.  They  had  the  distribu- 
tion of  most  of  the  good  things  of  life;  they  were  to  be 
placated,  petted,  "kidded,"  into  doing  nice  things.  "With 
three  drinks  and  a  liftle  sympathy,  any  man  will  think  he's 
in  love,"  she  declared.  Dolores'  real  hatred  was  reserved 
for  her  own  sex — especially  the  women  customers  at  the 
store.  "Nine  out  of  ten  of  'em  act  as  if  they  knew  you 
weren't  straight — the  patronisin'  frumps.  I  could  tell  some 
of  'em  a  few  nice  stories  about  the  men  in  their  own 
families." 

Lee  marvelled  at  Dolores'  sturdy  powers  of  resistance; 
but  he  was  in  no  mood  for  moral  uplift  these  days.  What 
he  craved  was  some  escape  from  the  thought  of  his  own 
unbearable  situation  with  Mrs.  Curran.  Ellwood  James 
supplied  precisely  this  self-forgetfulness.  He  was  never  de- 
spondent. He  was  forever  suggesting  new  and  interesting 
exploits.     He   was   unfailingly    entertaining.     He    never 


THE  GROPER  187 

dragged  in  such  depressing  subjects  as  moral  conscience  or 
duty.  To  him,  Life  was  a  never-ending  pursuit  of  fresh 
sensations. 

Lee  slowly  absorbed  the  hedonistic  viewpoint.  His  caf6 
life  with  Ellwood  was  developing  into  a  definite  and  ever- 
growing habit.  His  experiments  with  women  commenced — 1 
and  not  all  of  his  affairs  were  as  innocent  as  that  witK 
Dolores  McGovern. 


vni 

EIGHTEEN  full  months  dragged  wearily  by  before 
he  could  bring  himself  to  face  the  issue  with  Mrs. 
Curran. 

Meanwhile,  life  took  on  a  nightmarish  quality  for  him. 
He  did  his  work  at  the  store  in  a  perfunctory,  uninspired 
way,  and  by  the  fall  of  1910,  he  was  drawing  four  thousand 
dollars  a  year.  He  continued  his  social  activities  in  des- 
ultory fashion.  Fred  Badger  honored  him  by  appointing 
him  an  usher  for  his  wedding. 

But  the  hypocrisy  of  his  position,  his  sense  of  stultifica- 
tion and  physical  uncleanness,  galled  him  cruelly.  The  only 
surcease  came  from  the  self-forgetfulness  that  Ellwood 
James  dispensed.  Novelty  of  sensation — a  new  girl,  a  new 
game  of  the  sexes — that  was  the  prescription! 

The  wonder  of  it  was  that  Mrs.  Curran  did  not  detect 
his  soreness  of  spirit  long  before  the  end.  Sometimes  he 
was  almost  openly  crabbed.  But  she  refused  to  quarrel 
with  him  on  any  pretext,  always  offered  him  sympathy  for 
his  troubles  instead  of  indignation.  If  he  lost  his  temper, 
she  put  him  in  the  wrong  by  remaining  silent.  But  under- 
neath her  soft-voiced  extenuations,  he  sensed  the  steely 
quality  of  her  insistence. 

Toward  the  finish,  he  slighted  her  openly  once  or  twice. 
She  palliated  his  offences,  as  usual;  but  the  last  Sunday 
before  his  summer  vacation,  he  found  ensconced  in  her 
drawing  room  the  self-same  aesthetic-looking  person  with 
whom  he  had  seen  her  at  the  art  gallery.  Heretofore,  she 
had  closed  the  doors  on  Sunday  to  every  one  but  Lee. 

This  crude  attempt  to  arouse  his  jealousy  filled  him 
188 


THE  GROPER  189 

with  an  even  greater  antipathy  toward  his  enforced  intimacy 
with  her. 

A  morning  or  two  later,  Howard  Doman  summoned  him 
to  his  office. 

"I  want  to  have  a  serious  talk  with  you,"  he  began.  His 
friendly  smile  did  not  wholly  conceal  the  gravity  of  his 
expression. 

"Your  work  for  the  last  six  months  has  been  very  medi- 
ocre, Lee,"  he  went  on.  "There's  no  life  in  it — no  sponta- 
neity— no  imagination.  It's  mechanical.  You  aren't  having 
any  fun  doing  it.  Now  I  want  to  know  what  the  trouble 
is." 

Lee  remained  silent. 

Doman's  interrogative  eyes  searched  his  assistant's  face. 
"It  isn't  business,"  he  puzzled.  "You're  evidently  dissipat- 
ing a  good  deal,  but  a  chap  of  your  type  only  dissipates  to 
escape  something  else." 

Lee  shook  his  head  despairingly.  "Yes,  you're  quite  right, 
Mr.  Doman.    But  I  can't  tell  you  anything  about  it." 

"It's  really  none  of  my  affair,"  said  Doman  kindly.  "But 
I  fancy  I  can  guess  what  the  situation  is." 

Lee  looked  up  quickly. 

"You're  leaving  to-morrow  for  your  vacation,"  said  his 
chief.  "I  want  you  to  stay  away  a  month  and  just  rest. 
And  when  you  come  back,  I  want  you  to  cut  yourself  loose. 
You  understand,  I  think.  Remember  this:  It's  splendid  to 
be  considerate  of  people's  feelings,  but  a  man  owes  some 
duty  to  himself.  Anything  that  throttles  his  finest  possi- 
bilities, he  must  destroy  at  all  costs." 

During  his  vacation,  Lee  meditated  constantly  on  Do- 
man's advice.  Did  his  friend  really  fathom  the  situation? 
Was  it  within  the  bounds  of  possibility  that  he  had  under- 
gone the  very  same  experience  with  Mrs.  Curran? 

At  all  events,  Lee  came  back  to  the  city  with  the  fixed 
resolve  of  terminating  the  odious  relationship;  and  the  first 


il9o  THE  GROPER 

night  of  Mrs.  Curran's  return  from  Maine,  early  in  Octo- 
ber, he  told  her  that  he  no  longer  loved  her. 

They  were  sitting  on  the  big  red  davenport  in  front  of 
the  fire.  As  he  checked  the  gladness  of  her  homecoming 
mood  and  began  his  broken  recital,  his  eyes  involuntarily 
took  note  of  Mrs.  Curran's  left  hand  lying  on  the  end  of 
the  familiar  salmon-colored  scarf  that  draped  itself  across 
the  edge  of  the  davenport.  Her  slim  fingers,  incarnadined 
by  the  fire-light,  tapped  the  cloth  reflexively.  Then,  all  at 
once,  as  his  meaning  became  clear,  the  tapping  of  her  fin- 
gers was  arrested;  her  whole  hand  seemed  to  shrink  and 
collapse,  like  a  suddenly  deflated  toy  balloon. 

Somehow  he  finished  and  sat  waiting.  It  was  over  at  last. 
And  now  for  the  painful  scene! 

He  looked  up  from  that  pathetic  left  hand.  Mrs.  Cur- 
ran's eyes  were  closed,  and  a  rather  set  smile  just  touched 
her  lips. 

"I  rather  expected  this,"  she  said  at  last.  "It's  all  per- 
fectly obvious  to  me — I  forgot  to  make  a  game  out  of  it. 
I  forgot  to  conceal."    Her  bitter  smile  returned. 

Genuine  compunction  was  fast  overtaking  Lee.  "I'm 
awfully  sorry,"  he  said.  "You  have  meant  a  great  deal  to 
me.    You  have  been  so  generous " 

Then  he — he  who  had  dreaded  her  tears — abruptly  broke 
(down  himself. 

Presently  her  hand  rested  on  his. 

"I  know,"  she  said.  "It's  hard,  but  it's  so  destined.  It 
has  been  so  destined  from  the  beginning." 

He  experienced  a  wild  impulse  to  tell  her  that  he  had  been 
mistaken,  that  he  wanted  things  to  go  on  between  them. 

"There  is  some  one  else?"  she  asked. 

He  lied  outright.    "Yes." 

"Of  course  I  knew  such  happiness  couldn't  go  on  for- 
ever," she  said.  She  talked  slowly,  as  if  it  hurt  her.  "Some- 
how it  isn't  so  hard  to  lose  you  because  you've  fallen  in 


THE  GROPER  jgv 

love  with  some  young  girl.  That's  natural.  I'm  grateful 
for  having  had  you  as  long  as  I  have.  If  you  had  simply 
grown  sick  of  me,  I  don't  think  I  could  have  endured  it." 

Lee  gradually  recovered  his  poise.  "Can  you  forgive  me?" 
he  importuned. 

She  even  smiled — happily,  not  bitterly — as  if  at  pleasant 
recollections. 

"Dear  boy,"  she  answered,  "you're  the  finest  man  I've 
ever  known.  If  there's  any  forgiveness  to  be  asked,  I  am 
the  one  to  seek  it.  I  don't  suppose  I  had  any  right  to  take 
what  you've  given  me.  Probably  you'll  think  hard  things 
of  me — if  you  haven't  already.  I  hope  I  haven't  harmed 
you  very  much.  Do  try  to  think  kindly  of  me.  I  was  very; 
lonely." 

A  log  crashed  down  between  the  brass  andirons  amidst 
a  shower  of  sparks. 

"Very  lonely,"  she  repeated  slowly.  "You  see — I've  never 
had  any  children.  The  one  thing  in  life  I  wanted  most,  I 
couldn't  have.    Do  you  understand?" 

He  was  conscious  that  all  his  smouldering  resentment  had 
vanished  utterly.  For  the  first  time  in  his  life,  he  caught 
the  view  of  a  human  being  inescapably  caught  in  the  web 
of  circumstance.  The  exigencies,  the  thwarted  instincts, 
the  infelicities  of  her  life  had  fashioned  her  as  she  was. 
And  never  after  that  could  he  quite  return  to  his  former 
conception  of  personal  blame.  People  were  puppets,  at  the 
mercy  of  Fate.    Only  fools  prated  of  moulding  Destiny. 

He  felt  poignant  regrets  for  some  of  the  ugly  thoughts 
he  had  cherished  toward  her.  Her  real  fineness,  her  almost 
maternal  tenderness  put  him  to  the  blush. 

"Come  and  see  me  often — after  a  while,"  she  whispered, 
as  they  said  good-night.  "And  don't  forget — there's  noth- 
ing in  the  world  I  wouldn't  do  for  you." 

As  Lee  reached  the  sidewalk,  he  turned  for  a  last  look. 

Mrs.  Curran  still  stood  silhouetted  in  the  open  doorway 


Ii92  THE  GROPER 

j— a  lonely,  ineffably  forlorn  figure — gazing  out  after  him. 
But  he  might  have  spared  himself  all  his  pity  for  her 
loneliness.  A  fortnight  later,  he  spied  his  successor  lolling 
in  the  Curran  limousine — a  dreamy-eyed,  sensitive  young 
fellow;  by  all  signs  an  idealist,  even  as  Lee  himself  had 
keen,  years  ago  it  seemed. 


IX 

LEE  had  imagined  that  his  unhappy  situation  witK' 
Mrs.  Curran  was  the  sole  cause  of  his  desire  for  the 
commodities  that  Ellwood  James  supplied.     For  a 
month  or  two,  he  led  a  quiet,  normal  existence. 

Jhen  a  strange  phenomenon  brought  itself  to  his  attend 
tion. 

He  began  to  realise  that  his  intrigue  carried  an  after- 
math— a  desolating  restlessness  that  was  almost  physical, 
a  certain  indefinable  craving.  Little  by  little,  he  perceived 
how  the  experience  had  warped  and  twisted  him.  He  had 
the  feeling  of  being  emotionally  gutted. 

[Then  Ellwood  reappeared,  offering  the  anodyne  of  bright 
•eyes,  bright  lights  and  cocktails. 

During  that  winter  and  spring,  "Gertrude's"  snub  nose 
poked  its  way  into  devious  paths;  "Gertrude's"  red  tail- 
light  gleamed  almost  nightly  on  the  down-town  streets  and 
in  dubious  alleys. 

Life  seemed  a  fairly  simple  equation  to  Ellwood.  Hap- 
piness, he  claimed,  was  solely  a  question  of  bodily  well- 
being.  "If  you're  feeling  fit,  you're  happy.  If  you're  tired 
out,  you're  blue.  Whenever  I  feel  low,  I  know  I  need  a 
good  rest,  and  I  simply  take  a  week  off — stay  in  bed  twelve 
hours  a  day.  Then  I'm  like  a  fighting  cock  again.  Of 
course,  I'm  not  talking  about  real  happiness.  I  can  count 
the  times  I've  been  really  happy  on  the  fingers  of  one  hand. 
The  happiness  I  mean  is  escape  from  boredom.  That  kind 
of  happiness  I  can  get  any  time  with  a  few  drinks  and  my 
newest  girl  sitting  across  the  table.  How  many  of  your, 
wise  men  have  so  simple  and  sure  a  recipe  ?" 

193 


194  THE  GROPER 

"How  did  you  happen  to  get  started  as  a  woman- 
hunter?"  Lee  once  asked  him. 

"Well,  it's  rather  curious."  Ellwood  looked  around  the 
noisy  cafe  reflectively.  "Being  a  doctor  was  what  did  it. 
I  don't  believe  a  man  really  knows  women  unless  he's  in 
the  medical  game.  An  office  full  of  ailing  females  every 
day.  That's  not  the  point,  though.  A  good  many  women 
demand  personal  familiarity  from  a  doctor.  Sounds  caddish, 
doesn't  it — but  it's  true.  Just  as  one  of  'em  once  said 
to  me:  'We  like  to  be  petted!'  And  if  you  don't  pet 
them,  they  up  and  go  to  some  doctor  who  will.  It  used  to 
make  me  sick,  but  after  a  while,  I  got  to  be  pretty  good 
at  it.    I  got  the  habit  of  doing  it." 

He  laughed  a  little  shame-facedly.  "Naturally,  it's  no 
fun  fussing  over  women  who're  paying  you  to  do  it.  But 
when  you've  left  the  business  behind,  and  can  do  your  love- 
making  where  you  want — well,  Lee,  it's  the  one  thing  in 
life  that  never  grows  stale.  You  can  get  bored  to  tears 
with  everything  else — friends,  tobacco,  food,  even  drink — 
but  each  new  pair  of  good-looking  eyes  is  a  fresh  challenge. 
A  little  silk,  a  little  scent— I  know  it's  all  a  fake,  but  I'm 
not  so  fossilised  I  can  resist  the  lure  of  it.  And  the  game 
is  fun  for  the  girl,  too.  Most  women  want  to  be  mastered. 
And  every  once  in  so  often,  you  find  some  girl  you  can 
never  quite  catch — and  you  go  through  life  worshipping 
her  memory.    Funny,  isn't  it?" 

Lee  felt  immensely  drawn  to  the  young  physician  at 
times.  There  was  a  warmth,  an  appealing  generosity,  about 
him.  His  sense  of  humor  was  unflaggingly  entertaining; 
his  ingenuity  in  searching  out  novelty  was  incredible;  his 
supply  of  new  girls  inexhaustible. 

He  had  his  more  serious  aspects,  too.  He  would  drop 
all  frivolity  on  the  instant,  if  a  professional  case  obtruded. 

Late  one  night  in  a  cafe,  a  Greek  'bus-boy  bearing  a  heavy 


THE  GROPER  195 

tray  stumbled  over  a  table-leg  and  gashed  his  temple  on  the 
tile  floor. 

"Dirty  little  pig!"  vituperated  the  "captain,"  and  nudged 
the  'bus-boy  with  his  shoe. 

Lee  never  beheld  hotter  rage  than  Ellwood's.  He  threw 
the  surprised  head-waiter  aside,  and  for  a  moment  it  was 
pitch-and-toss  whether  there  would  be  a  free-for-all  fight. 
Then  Ellwood  picked  the  'bus-boy  up  in  his  arms  and  car- 
ried him  to  the  hospital.  He  had  completely  forgotten  about 
Lee  and  the  two  girls. 

Ellwood's  hands  were  long-fingered,  deft-looking — ideal 
hands  for  a  surgeon.  His  very  appearance  in  a  sick  room 
must  have  worked  wonders  with  his  few  patients. 

Another  quality  that  endeared  him  to  Lee  was  his  fierce 
hatred  of  sham.  Of  Fred  Badger,  for  example,  he  said: 
"There  are  three  kinds  of  city  liars:  the  man  who  lies  about 
his  conquests  with  women;  the  man  who  lies  about  his  vic- 
torious fist-fights  with  other  men;  and  the  man  who  lies 
about  how  much  money  he's  making.  Fred  Badger  is  the 
third  variety.  He  may  be  worlds  better  than  I  am.  I'm 
a  bad  egg,  all  right,  and  I  live  off  my  father.  But  at  any 
rate,  I'm  not  a  hypocrite.  Swank  and  bunk — those  are  two 
things  I  can't  stand  in  any  man  or  woman.  And  for  real 
generosity  and  sincerity,  give  me  the  sinner  every  time." 

Lee  recognised  the  ingredient  of  truth  in  Ellwood's  jus- 
tifications of  their  mode  of  life;  but  for  his  part,  he  could 
never  quite  escape  the  feeling  that  his  own  conduct  was 
wrong.  He  could  never  achieve  Ellwood's  buoyancy  in 
dissipation.  He  sowed  his  own  wild  oats  in  a  gloomy,  sad- 
dened way.  Even  in  the  highest  revelry,  he  could  not  quite 
shake  off  his  moodiness. 

There  were  few  of  the  girls  he  had  dealings  with  these 
days  who  had  any  of  the  personality  that  distinguished 
Dolores  McGovern.  Dolores  continued  to  be  a  source  of 
wonderment  to  him.    Her  mental  quality — her  perceptive- 


190 


THE  GROPER 


neSs — was  uncommon.  She  said:  "You  were,"  instead  of  the 
all-prevalent,  "You  was,"  of  her  class.  Her  occasional 
revelations  of  fineness  fairly  bowled  him  over.  Even  her 
vulgarity  had  an  honest,  sane  quality — suggested  a  certain 
hardiness  of  spirit. 

But  it  became  evident  to  Lee  that  she  did  not  propose 
to  waste  her  youth  upon  a  young  man  who  merely  admired 
her.  She  had  a  definite  goal  in  life:  she  wanted  to  get 
married — not  to  the  first  man  who  proposed — but  to  some 
"live  wire"  who  could  make  money  for  her.  She  ac- 
quiesced in  Lee's  affectionate  demonstrations  until  it  seemed 
clear  he  had  no  intention  of  marrying  her.  Then — though 
she  really  liked  him — she  cut  him  off  without  a  tremor  of 
emotion.  "I  can't  spend  any  time  on  triflers,"  she  averred. 
Lee  was  shocked  at  first  by  her  apparent  cold-bloodedness, 
but  he  soon  came  to  admire  more  than  ever  the  business- 
like way  in  which  she  set  about  to  lift  her  life  out  of  the 
ruck  of  poverty — the  sureness  of  aim  with  which  she  planned 
to  accomplish  her  life  purpose.  She  used  her  slim  body, 
her  provocative  beauty,  her  sex,  as  baits;  but  he  did  not 
blame  her. 

The  only  other  girl  who  left  a  lasting  impression  on  him 
was  a  pseudo-prostitute  named  Inga  Brandt.  Lee  encoun- 
tered her  at  an  assignation  house  whither  he  and  Ellwood 
had  repaired,  quite  drunk,  an  hour  or  two  after  midnight. 
He  noticed  her  because  of  her  silence.  She  drank  her  glass 
of  beer  slowly,  and  listened  to  the  others.  Her  hair  was 
very  light,  and  her  broad  forehead  looked  unaccountably 
serene. 

She  was  a  widow,  she  told  him,  and  had  two  small  chil- 
dren. She  worked  in  a  candy  store  every  day  from  noon 
until  ten  at  night.  But  her  wages — six  dollars  a  week — 
barely  paid  half  the  family's  expenses.  So  she  came  down 
to  "No.  203,"  at  the  landlady's  telephone  call,  once  or  twice 
a  week. 


THE  GROPER  197 

She  spoke  in  a  matter-of-fact  way,  and  he  paid  little 
attention.  Such  stories  were  common,  and  in  his  experience, 
were  usually  maudlin  bids  for  sympathy.  But  he  could  not 
help  catching  the  beauty  of  her  luminous,  accusing  blue 
eyes. 

Within  the  week,  he  came  upon  her  on  Woodward  ave- 
nue. One  child  toddled  at  her  side,  the  other  she  carried 
in  her  arms.  Her  face  was  placidly  happy.  Instinctively, 
Lee  dodged  past  her,  lest  the  sight  of  him  should  mar  the 
serenity  of  her  thoughts. 

The  cruelty  of  her  fate  revolted  him.  Here,  nineteen 
centuries  after  the  birth  of  Christ,  in  a  community  that 
called  itself  highly  civilised,  a  woman  must  still  sell  her  body 
to  feed  and  clothe  her  children. 

As  time  went  by,  the  conviction  grew  in  Lee  that  his 
excesses  were  merely  in  the  nature  of  a  drug.  It  required 
increasingly  large  doses  to  put  his  unhappiness  to  sleep. 
He  rarely  missed  a  night  downtown  with  Ellwood.  He 
drank  heavily;  he  came  to  recognise  the  uncanny  sense  of 
perspective  that  comes  with  drunkenness.  He  had  already 
begun  to  experience  periods  of  boredom  and  profound  men- 
tal despondency.  A  duller  mind  than  his  could  not  have 
helped  discerning  the  bleak  alliance  between  poverty  and 
drunkenness  and  immorality. 

He  was  in  such  a  mood  late  one  night,  when  Ellwood  and 
he  emerged  from  the  familiar  brick  house  with  the  storm- 
shed — "No.  203" — and  embarked  in  the  taxicab  that  was 
to  take  them  home. 

Ellwood  lay  back  on  the  seat  limply.  The  light  from 
street  lamps  occasionally  flitted  across  his  colorless  face. 
The  pace  was  telling,  even  on  him.  His  skin  had  a  drawn, 
worn  look,  and  his  eyes  often  appeared  puffy.  Lee  found 
himself  thinking  of  the  tragic  futility  of  the  young  doctor's 
life — of  the  prodigal  waste  of  the  natural  talent  that  might 
have  made  him  a  great  surgeon. 


198  THE  GROPER 

Ellwood  seemed  asleep,  but  all  at  once  he  gave  a  sigh 
that  was  almost  a  groan. 

"Oh,  God,  Leel"  he  said  with  infinite  weariness.  "I'm  so 
tired  of  it  all I" 


IT  Had  been  quite  apparent,  at  the  time  of  Lee's  break 
with  her,  that  Mrs.  Curran  had  not  the  slightest  inten- 
tion of  withdrawing  the  influence  she  had  exerted  for 
him  at  the  department  store. 

With  this  worry  off  his  mind,  Lee  took  notice  of  Howard 
Doman's  friendly  warning  and  set  to  work  to  remedy  the 
deficiencies  in  his  advertising  copy.  He  was  careful  not  to 
permit  his  dissipations  with  Ellwood  James  to  interfere  too 
seriously  with  his  duties  at  the  store.  He  was  tired  a  great 
deal  of  the  time,  it  is  true;  he  never  quite  retrieved  his 
earlier  spontaneity.  But  he  did  work  faithfully  and  with 
an  undeniable  mental  pleasure  in  his  efforts. 

He  could  not  help  seeing  the  big  opportunity  ahead  of 
him.  He  was  dimly  aware  of  the  preliminary  skirmishes 
that  were  taking  place  day  by  day  between  Doman  and 
Howard  Estabrook.  There  could  be  no  mistaking  that 
Michael  Curran  was  fast  failing  in  health  and  capability. 
His  retirement  wasj  only  a  matter  of  months. 

The  crisis  came  earlier  than  he  had  expected. 

"Mike  is  going  to  resign  at  the  next  directors'  meeting," 
Doman  said  one  day  early  in  May.  "Two  weeks  more  wiD 
tell  the  tale." 

In  some  way,  the  news  crept  through  the  store.  An  at- 
mosphere of  suspense  pervaded  the  whole  establishment. 
Few  of  the  clerks  liked  Estabrook.  They  had  little  hope 
that  Doman  would  do  anything  for  them,  but  the  sentiment 
was  overwhelmingly  in  his  favor. 

Lee  was  more  excited  than  the  big  advertising  manager 

199 


200  THE  GROPER 

himself.  He  constantly  urged  Doman  on  to  greater  efforts 
in  his  own  behalf. 

"I  don't  know — Mike's  a  pretty  shrewd  chap,"  Doman 
would  say.    "He'll  make  his  decision  in  his  own  way." 

He  had  gone  to  Curran  at  once  and  asked  him  outright 
for  his  support,  as  against  Estabrook.  "I  put  it  on  the 
straight  basis  of  the  store's  future  development.  I  didn't 
knuckle  to  him  a  bit,  nor  ask  anything  as  a  personal 
favor." 

Estabrook,  on  the  other  hand,  was  pulling  every  wire  at 
his  disposal.  "I  don't  think  Mike  likes  Estabrook  or  Pete 
Curran,  or  any  of  their  crowd  too  well,"  divulged  Do- 
man. "Their  chief  hold  on  him  is  the  Estabrook  baby.  The 
old  man's  simply  crazy  about  kids,  and  if  I  get  licked,  it'll 
be  that  infant's  doing." 

The  day  before  the  directors'  meeting,  Doman  was  frown- 
ing. "Have  you  heard  their  latest  stunt?"  he  demanded. 
"They're  even  dragging  religion  into  it.  Mrs.  Estabrook 
and  Pete  Curran  have  told  the  old  man  that  I  ought  not 
to  have  the  job  because  my  folks  were  from  North  Ireland, 
and  the  Currans  of  course  are  South  Irish.  Wouldn't  that 
get  you?" 

The  important  meeting  was  to  be  held  at  noon;  but 
shortly  before  eleven,  Howard  Doman  sent  for  Lee. 

"By  Golly,  I  win!"  he  beamed.  "Mike  just  came  in  and 
told  me  he  was  going  to  swing  my  way." 

"There  are  just  three  strings  attached  to  my  job,"  he 
added,  with  pretended  ruefulness.  "I  had  to  promise  to 
keep  Estabrook  and  Pete  Curran  on  the  payroll  for  life, 
and — what  do  you  think? — I'm  to  give  the  Estabrook  baby 
a  job  if  I'm  still  in  the  saddle  when  he's  grown  up.  Poor 
old  Mikel    I'm  afraid  he  isn't  going  to  last  much  longer." 

Presently,  he  turned  to  Lee.  "Now,  about  yourself.  I 
want  to  be  perfectly  frank  with  you.  You  have  the  ability 
to  be  a  cracking  good  advertising  manager.     You  aren't 


THE  GROPER  2oij 

doing  your  best,  though.  Too  much  night  life,  maybe.  But 
I'm  going  to  give  you  the  job  temporarily.  It's  up  to  you, 
Lee." 

The  new  organisation  went  into  effect  June  first.  Michael 
Curran  retained  office  as  president  and  kept  an  advisory 
control  over  the  finances  of  the  store.  Howard  Doman's 
new  title,  at  his  own  suggestion,  was  merchandise  manager. 
His  authority  was  absolute  in  all  departments,  but  his  spe- 
cial care  was  the  supervision  of  the  buying  and  selling. 
Directly  under  him  worked  the  buyers  of  all  departments. 
Under  his  general  control,  also,  were  Estabrook,  as  store 
superintendent,  and  Lee,  as  advertising  manager.  Doman 
promptly  combined  all  of  the  bookkeeping  activities  into  a 
separate  department,  created  the  office  of  records  manager, 
and  promoted  the  former  chief  credit  man  to  the  new  place. 

Before  fall,  he  had  set  in  motion  most  of  the  reforms  he 
had  been  preaching.  His  first  important  move  was  the 
leasing  of  a  new  store  with  twice  as  much  floor  space,  a 
block  further  north  on  Woodward  avenue.  This  alone  ef- 
fected an  immediate  improvement.  The  new  store  had 
broad  aisles,  and,  for  the  most  part,  glass  show-cases.  The 
old  crowding,  the  former  messiness  of  the  merchandise,  auto- 
matically disappeared.  The  salespeople  had  more  room; 
the  air  they  breathed  was  immeasurably  better.  Doman 
installed  a  pneumatic  tube  system  that  converged  at  the 
cashier's  office,  and  then  emancipated  most  of  the  under- 
sized cash-boys  and  girls.  The  few  wrapping-girls  that  re- 
mained were  all  over  sixteen. 

Even  more  important,  Doman  struck  at  the  root  of  the 
spirit  of  discontent  that  stifled  the  store's  growth.  One  by 
one,  he  weeded  out  the  Curran  relatives  and  friends  who 
held  soft  jobs.  He  even  deposed  Estabrook  and  Peter  Cur- 
ran from  their  high  offices  and  created  sinecures  so  that  they 
might  still  draw  their  salaries,  yet  do  no  harm  to  the  store 
organisation.    All  these  vacancies,  Doman  filled  strictly  on 


202  THE  GROPER 

the  principle  of  merit — not  long  service  alone,  but  general 
ability.  More  than  that,  he  let  it  be  noised  abroad  that 
henceforth  all  salaries  would  be  adjusted  largely  on  the  basis 
of  the  amount  of  sales.  Other  things  being  equal,  a  sales- 
man would  receive  about  three  per  cent,  of  his  total  average 
sales.  This  plan  raised  the  salaries  of  the  more  competent 
salesmen,  and  ejected  the  incurable  malcontents. 

Doman's  whole  aim  was  to  dissipate  the  demoralising 
bacillus  of  "pull"  from  the  atmosphere  of  the  great  store, 
to  make  each  employe  feel  that  he  was  on  a  clean,  self- 
respecting  basis — that  his  interests  and  the  store's  were 
identical.  Doman  wanted  a  salesman  to  talk  about  "our" 
goods,  "our"  policy.  He  himself  remained  approachable 
and  scrupulously  considerate,  and  he  insisted  on  perfect 
courtesy  to  each  customer  that  entered  the  store. 

Little  by  little,  the  idea  gained  ground  that  at  last  a 
new  regime  had  come  into  being,  that  the  new  boss  wasn't 
"kidding"  them,  that  real  ability  would  certainly  achieve 
its  reward.  It  was  a  difficult  thing  for  the  employes  to  be- 
lieve, but  there  seemed  no  escape  from  the  actual  facts. 


XI 

SLOWLY  the  conclusion  was  being  forced  on  Lee  that 
his  present  philosophy  of  life  was  utterly  unsatisfying. 
And,  according  to  Howard  Doman,  he  must  either 
change  his  habits  or  fail  to  make  good  in  his  new  position. 

The  spectacle  of  Michael  Curran  took  on  especial  signifi* 
cance  for  him  these  days.  The  old  Irishman  still  visited 
the  offices  regularly.  He  looked  very  ill;  there  was  some- 
thing pathetic  in  his  restlessness.  Lee  recalled  Doman's 
diagnosis  of  Curran's  life-motives:  "Money  and  women." 
But  now  the  fun  of  making  money  was  a  thing  of  the  past; 
and  according  to  Dolores  McGovern,  he  was  "too  old  for 
women."    He  no  longer  had  any  interests  in  life. 

Lee  wondered  if  at  sixty,  he  would  be  the  same  pitiful 
victim  of  his  physical  cravings.  The  old  age  of  a  hedonist 
was  not  exactly  an  inspiring  picture. 

Shortly  after  his  new  appointment,  he  received  a  telephone 
call  from  a  woman  whose  voice  he  could  not  identify. 

The  woman  seemed  either  timid  or  stubborn  about  giving 
her  name. 

Then— "It's  Vera." 

"What!"  he  exclaimed  unbelievingly.  "Not  Vera  Wake- 
field!" 

Her  laugh  was  unmistakable.  "Yes,  that  is,  Vera  Hig- 
ginson." 

Still  it  seemed  incredible. 

"Well,"  he  pursued,  "can't  I  see  you?" 

She  gave  him  an  address  in  a  rooming  house  district,  and 
he  made  an  engagement  for  that  evening. 

During  the  rest  of  the  day,  the  prospect  of  seeing  her 

203 


204  THE  GROPER 

monopolised  his  mind.  Vera  Wakefield!  The  name  un- 
loosed a  freshet  of  memories.  He  had  not  seen  her  for  four 
years.  Recollections  of  his  anguish  over  her  infidelity 
throbbed  in  his  brain. 

Then  for  the  first  time  he  thought  about  Vera's  husband. 
Was  he  in  the  city?  He  had  not  even  remembered  to  ask. 
Or  was  she  in  the  city  alone?  Perhaps  her  husband  didn't 
know.  Straightway  his  mind  veered  off  to  the  glamorous 
possibility  of  a  new  intrigue. 

Lee  now  owned  an  automobile  of  his  own — a  trim  little 
Durham  runabout.  Shortly  after  eight  o'clock  that  night, 
he  drove  up  to  the  address  Vera  had  given  him. 

A  moth-eaten  man  in  shirt  sleeves  answered  the  door-bell. 

"Mrs.  Higginson!"  he  called  up  the  narrow  staircase. 

Presently  Vera  appeared  at  the  head  of  the  stairs.  His 
first  impression  of  her  in  the  flickering  gas-light  was  that 
she  had  not  changed  in  the  slightest  detail  during  the  years 
that  had  elapsed.  She  was  the  same  soft-eyed,  irresistibly 
appealing  girl  to  whom  he  had  once  plighted  everlasting 
devotion. 

They  shook  hands  and  stood  looking  at  each  other  a 
moment. 

"I  have  my  car  outside,"  recollected  Lee,  with  a  faint 
consciousness  of  pride.  He  was  rather  anxious  to  show  her 
how  successful  he  had  been. 

It  was  not  until  they  were  seated  on  opposite  sides  of  a 
cafe  table  in  the  hostile  glare  of  a  hundred  ceiling  lights, 
that  it  came  home  to  him  with  a  painful  shock  that  Vera 
had  changed  after  all.  She  had  lost  the  virginal  slender- 
ness  of  youth.  She  was  not  exactly  buxom,  but  she  had 
"filled  out."  Gone  irrevocably  was  the  girl  he  had  wor- 
shipped on  Mount  Phillis. 

Vera  likewise  was  regarding  him  searchingly. 

"Why,  Lee,"  she  said,  "you're  stouter— a  whole  lot 
stouter  1" 


THE  GROPER  205 

After  that,  he  found  it  difficult  to  keep  the  thrill  of  the 
situation  intact,  to  imagine  into  the  mature  woman  opposite 
him  the  warm,  elusive  Vera  he  had  been  dreaming  of  all 
day. 

They  sat  there  for  a  space,  finding  themselves  strangely 
inarticulate.  His  lavish  proffers  of  food  and  drink  seemed 
to  fall  short  of  their  mark. 

"Can't  we  ride  some  more?"  Vera  asked.  "There's  so 
much  noise  in  here." 

It  was  as  if  they  both  welcomed  the  illusions  of  the  dark- 
ness outside. 

"By  the  way,  Vera,"  he  bethought  himself  to  ask,  after 
a  time,  "you  haven't  told  me  about  yourself — how  you  hap- 
pen to  be  here." 

Vera  waited  a  moment  before  she  answered.  "I  thought 
you  might  guess,"  she  said. 

They  crossed  the  bridge  to  Belle  Isle,  and  at  length  he 
brought  the  runabout  to  a  stop  at  the  head  of  the  island. 
The  river  was  alive  with  the  red  and  green  lights  of  motor- 
boats.  Up  in  Lake  St.  Clair,  they  caught  the  flashing  signals 
of  lighthouses.  Occasionally  the  phantom  of  a  sail-boat 
crept  across  the  path  of  the  moonlight.  Somehow  the  water 
seemed  very  black. 

Vera's  story  began  to  unfold.  She  had  come  to  Detroit 
because  she  felt  she  could  not  endure  living  with  her  hus- 
band another  day. 

Her  family  were  urging  her  to  marry  Milo  Higginson, 
she  said,  even  before  Lee  left  Chatham.  Her  mother  was 
sure  Lee  was  not  "practical" — would  never  be  a  money- 
maker. 

"And,  you  know — I'm  sort  of  surprised  myself  at  the 
way  you've  succeeded,"  she  added  naively.  "I  really  felt 
just  as  mother  did — that  you'd  never  make  money.  Many 
a  time  I've  gone  over  that  last  talk  of  ours  on  Mount 
Phillis.     When  you  said  you  believed  in  ideals  and  that 


206  THE  GROPER 

success  always  came  to  the  man  who  deserved  it — to  tell  the 
honest  truth,  I  doubted  it.  I  thought  you  were  really  too 
high-minded  to  succeed."  She  turned  to  him  radiantly. 
"But  you  have  made  good — and  stayed  fine,  too.  It's  just 
splendid." 

Lee  was  silent. 

"Oh,  I  know  you  think  I  was  weak  to  give  in  to  them," 
Vera  began  again.  "But  you  have  no  idea  what  pressure 
your  own  family  can  bring  to  bear  on  you.  Then  month 
after  month  went  by — and  you  didn't  come  back.  They 
finally  just  plain  cowed  me  into  it,  I  guess.  The  night  be- 
fore my  wedding — well,  I  cried  till  morning." 

Her  face  was  tragic  in  the  reflected  moonlight.  "Oh,  Lee, 
why  did  you  pay  any  attention  to  my  letter?  Why  didn't 
you  come  and  run  off  with  me?" 

"How  could  I  know?"  he  answered  impatiently.  Over 
him  slowly  crept  the  despairing  realisation  that  a  greater 
courage  than  his — a  willingness  to  fight  for  her — might  have 
saved  Vera  for  himself.  In  the  supreme  crisis  he  had  failed 
her. 

"You  couldn't  know,"  she  reflected.  "I  don't  mean  I  think 
you  were  at  all  to  blame.  You  were  always  too  good  to 
me — that  was  the  only  trouble  with  you.  Yes,  I  mean  it 
— too  good  to  me." 

Her  married  life  had  been  like  a  prison  to  her  from  the 
very  beginning.  She  had  kept  on  loving  Lee,  and  one  day 
her  cloddish  husband  had  found  her  reading  some  of  Lee's 
Detroit  letters. 

"If  he'd  dragged  me  'round  by  the  hair,  I  might  have 
stood  it.  But  he'd  only  laugh— and  then  get  sullen.  He's 
just  plain  animal,  Lee." 

She  had  repeatedly  suggested  a  divorce,  but  Higginson 
wouldn't  have  it  so.  "He  said  he'd  got  me,  and  he  was 
going  to  prevent  you  from  ever  having  me,  anyway." 


THE  GROPER  207 

Intimacy  with  a  man  she  hated  finally  became  unbearable, 
and  she  had  come  to  Detroit. 

"I've  been  here  a  month  already,"  she  astonished  Lee  by 
saying.    "And  what  do  you  think  I'm  doing  for  a  living?" 

He  confessed  his  complete  bewilderment. 

"Playing  the  piano  in  a  movie!"  She  really  laughed,  for 
the  first  time.  "Not  much  of  a  job — I  make  just  about 
enough  to  pay  my  way.  But  it'll  do  for  a  beginning,  and 
any  thing's  better  than — than  that!"  She  gave  a  signifi- 
cant gesture,  then  looked  up  at  him  earnestly.  "You  don't 
believe  one  bad  mistake  ought  to  do  for  a  person,  do  you?" 

Lee  returned  a  somewhat  preoccupied  negative.  He  was 
not  finding  Vera's  mood  at  all  provocative. 

"I  don't  either,"  she  went  on  decisively.  "One  night,  two 
or  three  months  ago,  I  suddenly  made  up  my  mind  to  clear 
out — forget  all  my  miserable  mistakes — and  somehow  make 
a  fresh  start.  Even  if  I  starved  for  it.  I  simply  won't  ad- 
mit that  my  whole  life's  spoiled.  There  must  be  some  way 
out." 

"How  about  your  father  and  mother?"  he  interposed. 

"Cut  loose  from  them — from  everybody  and  everything." 

They  sat  in  silence  looking  at  the  lights  on  the  water. 
At  last  they  turned  toward  each  other.  Vera  yielded  to  him 
eagerly. 

As  they  half-reclined  in  the  automobile,  holding  each  other 
close,  a  sense  of  tragic  futility  came  over  Lee.  He  remem- 
bered their  last  hour  on  Mount  Phillis.  But  now  all  the 
ecstasy,  all  the  wonder  of  their  former  love  had  somehow 
stolen  away. 

And  as  he  kept  on,  making  the  only  kind  of  love  he  was 
capable  of  these  days,  Vera  abruptly  laughed — a  sad  laugh 
of  self-derision. 

"You're  like  all  the  rest,  Lee,"  she  said  in  tones  of  in- 
finite disillusion,  and  fairly  pushed  him  away.    "You  never 


208  THE  GROPER 

would  have  acted  like  this,  in  the  old  days.  You're  differ- 
ent, too." 

They  drove  back  to  Vera's  cheerless  rooming  house  in 
profound  depression. 

"I  can  only  say  I'm  sorry,"  he  said.  "I  guess  we're  both 
pretty  unhappy  people  nowadays." 

"Let's  forget  to-night,"  urged  Vera.  "Let's  just  remem- 
ber things  as  they  used  to  be.  I'm  sorry  I  said  what  I  did 
to  you,  because  really  I  have  implicit  faith  in  you.  Never 
forget  that,  Lee:  I  have  implicit  faith  in  you.  I  can't  help 
it  somehow." 

It  was  not  so  much  the  realisation  of  his  brutality  to  her 
that  overwhelmed  him  with  despair  as  he  left  her — though 
that  realisation  was  bad  enough.  Vera's  life  had  been  a  dis- 
mal tragedy.  Fate  had  cut  and  bruised  her  cruelly.  True, 
she  had  changed.  She  was  more  mature,  less  alluringly 
youthful.  But  they  had  loved  each  other  deeply,  purely. 
She  had  come  to  him,  believing  in  him,  idealising  him,  need- 
ing his  help  terribly;  and  he  might  better  have  struck  her 
in  the  face. 

More  intolerable  still,  though,  was  his  deep  conviction 
of  the  irreparable  loss  of  something  fine  within  himself. 
He  had  clasped  Vera  in  his  arms,  and  found  himself  clutch- 
ing a  body — any  woman's  body.  Love  inevitably  meant 
bodies  to  him  nowadays.  It  was  no  longer  a  spiritual  thing. 
He  had  dragged  it  through  the  mire,  and  it  had  become 
befouled — a  gross  and  hideous  thing. 


PART,  THREE 


THERE  ensued  a  brief  period  during  which  Lee  Hill- 
quit  merely  went  through  the  motions  of  living. 
Whenever  he  permitted  himself  to  think  at  all,  he 
came  to  a  dead  stop  almost  at  once.  The  events  of  his  four 
years  in  Detroit  seemed  wholly  upsetting.  He  could  not 
recall  one  of  his  youthful  assumptions  about  life  that  had 
stood  the  test  of  actual  experience.  Everything  was  topsy- 
turvy. To  idealise  was  sheer  folly:  that  had  been  his  first 
painful  discovery.  He  had  been  mistaken  about  success, 
too.  As  long  as  he  relied  on  mere  hard  work,  on  his  own 
merit,  he  had  tasted  bitter  failure;  then  all  at  once,  by  the 
grace  of  sheer  luck,  success  had  fallen  from  the  skies.  If 
he  had  chosen  a  slightly  different  route  for  his  melancholy 
walk  three  years  ago  last  April — if  he  had  not  turned  that 
particular  corner  off  Cass  avenue — Mrs.  Curran's  limousine 
would  never  have  opened  its  doors  for  him  and  swiftly  car- 
ried him  off  to  fortune.  He  would  be  receiving  ten  dollars 
a  week  as  teller  in  a  Chatham  bank,  instead  of  six  thousand 
a  year  as  advertising  manager  of  the  great  city  department 
store  of  Curran  &  Company.  Life  was  wholly  haphazard. 
The  wisest  seer  could  not  predict  what  to-morrow  would 
bring  forth.  What  did  it  avail  a  man  to  labor  and  plan 
when  Fate  might  be  just  around  the  corner  waiting  to  undo 
the  efforts  of  a  lifetime,  like  a  ruthless  boy  stepping  on  an 
ant-hill?  It  was  better  to  trust  to  luck. 
No,  idealism  was  far  beside  the  mark;  yet,  when  one 

209 


210  THE  GROPER 

swung  to  the  opposite  extreme  and  made  gods  out  of  one's 
senses,  life  became  even  more  desolate.  Hedonism  tricked 
one  with  tinsel  that  turned  to  dross  in  one's  hands,  left 
one's  soul  utterly  arid  and  forlorn. 

He  had  essayed  both  virtue  and  wickedness,  and  neither 
brought  him  happiness. 

It  was  while  he  was  in  this  quandary  that  a  stray  remark 
of  Fred  Badger's  lodged  itself  in  his  mind. 

Fred  and  he  had  been  seeing  a  great  deal  of  each  other 
ever  since  their  reconciliation  three  years  before.  Fred's 
success  seemed  to  continue  undiminished,  and  Lee  always 
felt  his  own  achievements  completely  outdone. 

Fred  had  gone  out  of  his  way  to  show  favors.  He  had 
introduced  Lee  everywhere;  he  had  insisted  that  Lee  act  as 
usher  at  his  fashionable  church  wedding;  and  since  his  mar- 
riage, he  had  made  a  point  of  inviting  his  class-mate  to  his 
expensive  apartment  for  dinner,  at  least  once  a  month. 

The  remark  that  struck  home  to  Lee  occurred  during  one 
of  these  dinners.  There  were  only  four  of  them  there: 
Fred  and  Helene,  his  wife,  Lee  and — to  fill  a  last  minute 
vacancy — Eleanor  Badger. 

They  were  talking  about  a  multi-millionaire  automobile 
manufacturer  who  had  just  announced  an  unprecedented  in- 
crease of  wages  at  his  plant. 

"He  says  he's  doing  it  just  as  a  matter  of  social  justice — 
whatever  that  means,"  Helene  Badger  set  forth. 

Fred  laughed  scornfully.  "That's  good!  Why,  his  only 
motive  is  to  get  free  advertising.  ' Social  justice! '  That's  all 
bosh!" 

Eleanor  cut  in  sharply.  "You  always  refuse  to  believe 
in  anything  but  selfish  motives." 

"Well,  why  should  I  kid  myself,  the  way  you  do?"  de- 
manded Fred.  "This  fellow's  after  money — just  like  all  the 
rest  of  us.   I  don't  blame  him  a  particle." 

The  subject  seemed  to  fascinate  him. 


THE  GROPER  211 

"Yes,  money,"  he  repeated.  "People  may  fool  themselves 
about  ideals  and  such  things.  But  it  never  gets  them  any- 
where." 

His  voice  rose.  "No,  sir,  people  don't  ask  about  a  man's 
ideals.  All  they  want  to  know  is — how  much  money  has 
he?  They  don't  even  inquire  how  he  got  it,  so  long  as  he 
has  it.  And  they're  right.  Money  is  the  one  thing  in  life 
you  can  be  sure  of;  and  if  you  have  money,  you  can  get 
anything  else  you  want — power,  position,  even  beauty.  It 
never  disappoints  you.    It's  the  one  sure  bet." 

This  appealed  to  Lee  as  the  most  sensible  viewpoint  he 
had  encountered  for  a  long  time.  A  year  or  two  ago,  he 
would  have  thought  it  crude,  sordid.    But  now  it  rang  true. 

He  was  almost  as  contemptuous  as  the  others  toward 
Eleanor  when  she  continued  to  disagree  with  Fred. 

"All  money  can  do  is  buy  things"  she  insisted,  "and 
things,  by  themselves,  never  made  anybody  happy  for  long. 
How  many  rich  people  do  you  know  who  are  happy?" 

It  was  rank  foolishness.  What  was  the  matter  with  this 
girl,  anyway?  Lee  had  seen  her  only  once  or  twice  since 
his  first  disagreeable  experience  with  her  at  the  Rutgers' 
house.  He  had  gathered  from  Fred's  chance  statements  that 
she  was  something  of  a  disappointment  to  her  family.  She 
had  made  a  promising  debut,  and  during  her  first  year  out 
she  had  been  extremely  popular.  "She  had  a  chance  to 
marry  Burritt  Johnson,"  Fred  complained.  Burritt  Johnson, 
he  went  on  to  explain,  was  a  much  sought-after  Chicago 
millionaire.  "But  she  had  some  finicky  idea  that  she  didn't 
love  him  enough,  and  I'll  be  hanged  if  she  didn't  turn  him 
down  cold!" 

Fred's  family  resented  her  "finicky  ideas,"  and  in  return, 
Eleanor  became  sarcastic.  She  seemed  to  delight  in  saying 
nasty  things  to  people,  and  naturally,  her  popularity  speed- 
ily dropped  to  nothing  at  all. 

It  was  obvious  that  she  was  a  perplexing  problem  to  Fred. 


212  THE  GROPER 

"She  might  have  been  a  great  help  to  all  of  us,"  ho 
moaned.    "Instead  of  that,  she's  a  handicap." 

That  same  night,  as  Lee  drove  her  home,  she  revealed  a 
new  phase  of  herself. 

"I  suppose  you  dislike  me  as  much  as  everybody  else,,, 
she  said  abruptly. 

Lee  had  an  instinct  to  have  things  out  with  her  then  and 
there. 

"Well,  no,  I  can't  say  I  dislike  you,"  he  answered.  "But 
I  do  think  you  go  out  of  your  way  to  say  a  good  many 
disagreeable  things." 

She  regarded  him  moodily.  "I  suppose  I  do — and  it 
doesn't  do  any  one  any  good,  myself  least  of  all.  You  see, 
I've  been  forced  to  lead  a  life  I  simply  detest,  and  that's 
made  me  rather  unhappy." 

Lee  remained  unmoved.  "It  seems  to  me  you've  had  a 
very  fortunate  kind  of  life.    You  have  social  position " 

"Social  position!"  she  broke  in  with  withering  scorn. 
"Can't  you  see  the  fraud  of  all  this  so-called  'Society'?  I 
think  it's  hopelessly  inane,  yet  I'm  supposed  to  do  the  same 
old  conventional  things.  Dress  and  flirt,  flirt  and  dress — 
till  I  catch  a  man.  It's  an  intelligent  life  for  a  human 
being,  isn't  it?  Don't  you  see  how  it  smothers  some  of  us? 
But  as  for  me — I'm  through  with  it.  I'm  going  to  be  a  per- 
son— I'm  going  to  do  things — I'm  going  to  use  my  brains, 
to  express  myself  somehow — no  matter  what  my  mother 
and  Fred  and  all  the  rest  say!" 

Lee  did  not  find  her  ideas  congenial.  "What  do  you  in- 
tend doing?"  he  asked. 

She  smiled  almost  happily.  "You  sound  as  though  you 
believed  that  good  old  adage:  'a  woman's  place  is  in  the 
home.'  But  you're  due  for  a  real  surprise  in  the  next  few 
years.  I'm  not  the  only  girl  that's  bored  to  tears  with 
doing  nothing — except  fascinating  men.  There  are  a  whole 
army  of  us  already.    We  want  to  be  people,  not  pets.    What 


THE  GROPER  213 

am  I  going  to  do?  I  don't  know  exactly,  but  I'm  going 
to  accomplish  something — or  try  to,  anyway.  Everybody 
has  the  right  to  some  form  of  self-expression — even  females. 
Honestly,  I'd  rather  be  a  successful  professional  woman  than 
anything  else  in  the  world." 

It  all  sounded  somewhat  hysterical  to  Lee — perhaps  path- 
ological. He  was  secretly  supercilious.  But  he  did  sense 
her  unhappiness — her  stifled  quality;  and  straightway  he 
lost  his  feeling  of  irritation. 

"I'm  afraid  I've  been  ranting,"  she  said  as  they  reached 
her  home.  "But  I  couldn't  help  it.  It  isn't  often  I  take 
the  trouble  to  explain  myself." 

Lee  shook  hands  with  her.  "Good  luck  to  you,  anyway! " 
he  said. 

But  it  was  significant  that  as  soon  as  he  left  her,  his  mind 
promptly  leaped  back  over  her  words  to  what  Fred  had 
said  about  money. 


n 

IT  was  pure  coincidence  that  at  the  very  time  Lee  came 
under  the  influence  of  Fred  Badger's  simple  recipe  for 
happiness,  his  own  personal  fortunes  began  to  rise  by 
leaps  and  bounds. 

In  the  autumn  of  the  year  1911 — when  Fred  made  his 
portentous  remarks  about  the  omnipotency  of  money — Lee 
could  hardly  be  said  to  have  made  much  financial  progress. 
Three  years  had  elapsed  since  his  investments  in  Broadway 
real  estate  and  Durham  motor  stock;  and  his  head  was  by 
no  means  above  water  even  now.  He  had  paid  for  his  five 
thousand  dollars  worth  of  stock  in  the  automobile  concern, 
but  most  of  this  stock  was  hypothecated  at  the  bank  for 
the  loan  of  sufficient  money  to  assist  him  in  keeping  up  the 
payments  on  his  Broadway  lot.  On  this  lot,  he  had  man- 
aged to  pay  but  four  thousand  dollars  in  addition  to  his 
first  three  thousand. 

Whenever  he  gave  the  situation  much  thought,  it  seemed 
to  him  that  he  ought  to  be  much  farther  ahead.  During 
the  three  last  years,  he  had  drawn  twelve  thousand  dollars 
in  salary  at  the  Curran  store;  his  mother's  insurance  and 
the  sale  of  the  Chatham  house  had  brought  him  six  thou- 
sand: a  total  of  eighteen  thousand  dollars.  His  investments 
amounted  to  about  nine  thousand  dollars  net.  In  other 
words,  he  had  spent  nine  thousand  dollars — three-fourths  of 
his  salary — for  his  personal  living  expenses  and  his  dissipa- 
tions with  Elwood  James. 

There  was  even  a  mortgage  on  his  Durham  runabout. 

Lee's  dissatisfaction  with  himself  extended  to  his  invest- 
ments.   He  had  paid  little  attention  either  to  his  real  estate 

214 


THE  GROPER  215 

or  his  automobile  stock.  The  Durham  Company  had  paid 
a  one  hundred  per  cent,  stock  dividend,  but  that  meant 
nothing  to  Lee.  He  would  have  preferred  a  ten  per  cent, 
cash  dividend.  The  future  payments  on  his  Broadway 
frontage  worried  him.  He  figured  that  he  could  negotiate 
a  fifteen  thousand  dollar  mortgage,  if  necessary,  but  even 
at  that,  he  remained  under  obligation  to  pay  more  than 
eight  thousand  dollars  within  the  next  two  years  or  lose  the 
property. 

To  tell  the  truth,  neither  investment  appeared  at  all  prom- 
ising to  him.  He  often  permitted  himself  irritated  thoughts 
about  Mrs.  Curran's  poor  judgment  in  urging  him  to  invest 
his  money  as  he  had.  Nor  did  Fred  Badger's  incessant  sug- 
gestions alleviate  his  frame  of  mind.  Fred  was  forever  dis- 
paraging Lee's  investments,  and  proposing  attractive  deals 
in  stocks  and  bonds.  "Automobile  companies  are  just  gam- 
bles," he  insisted,  "and  real  estate  in  Detroit  isn't  even  a 
gamble.  Most  of  the  people  I  know  dropped  all  they  had 
in  the  panic  of  1893." 

Indeed,  if  Lee  could  have  disposed  of  his  holdings  without 
any  considerable  sacrifice,  he  would  doubtless  have  done 
so,  and  placed  the  proceeds  at  Fred's  disposal. 

But  even  before  the  end  of  1911,  a  decided  change  be- 
came perceptible. 

Lee  found  a  young  stock  broker  waiting  for  him  one 
afternoon  shortly  before  Christmas. 

"What  do  you  hold  your  Durham  stock  at,  Mr.  Hill- 
quit?"  he  asked. 

Lee  eyed  his  visitor  in  perplexed  surprise.  "I  don't  know," 
he  finally  said.    "What  will  you  offer  me?" 

"You  hold  one  hundred  shares,"  said  the  broker.  "We 
will  pay  you  two  hundred  a  share,  minus  our  commis- 
sion." 

The  import  of  the  figures  sank  slowly  into  Lee's  con- 
sciousness.    Then  he  really  stared.     They  were  offering 


216  THE  GROPER 

him  twenty  thousand  dollars  for  his  five  thousand  dollar 
investment. 

"I  haven't  paid  much  attention  to  my  Durham  stock," 
he  said  easily.    "What's  the  cause  of  this  sudden  activity?" 

The  youthful  broker  showed  a  disposition  to  candor. 
"Rumors  of  a  dividend,"  he  diagnosed.  "It's  a  question 
whether  or  not  it's  advisable  to  sell.  There  may  be  a  whop- 
ping big  dividend,  and  again  there  may  be  none  at  all. 
But  you  know  how  much  the  Ford  Company's  paying. 
That's  what's  gotten  people  excited  about  motor  stocks." 

Lee  reserved  decision.  When  the  stock  salesman  had 
gone,  he  telephoned  the  treasurer  of  the  Durham  Com- 
pany, with  whom  he  had  a  slight  acquaintance. 

"What  would  you  advise  me  to  do?"  he  asked. 

The  treasurer  seemed  somewhat  hesitant.  "Of  course, 
the  matter  of  a  dividend  is  up  to  the  board  of  directors. 
We've  been  making  money  out  here,  but  they  may  decide 
to  stick  it  all  back  into  the  business."  He  paused.  "Every- 
thing considered,  you'd  better  hang  on." 

Lee's  inclination  had  been  to  sell  the  stock,  but  he  finally 
took  the  treasurer's  advice. 

The  second  week  in  January,  1912,  he  glanced  negligently 
at  the  financial  page  of  his  morning  paper. 

"DURHAM  DECLARES  100%  DIVIDEND." 

Lee  gave  a  scarcely  perceptible  start  and  re-read  the 
headline.  The  article  beneath  stated  tersely  that  the  di- 
rectors, at  their  annual  meeting  held  the  day  before,  had 
not  only  declared  this  astonishing  dividend,  but,  in  addition, 
had  put  a  large  sum  back  into  the  business. 

"This  prosperous  member  of  the  motors  group  has  had 
a  phenomenal  year,"  the  article  continued.  "Contracts  have 
already  been  let  for  its  new  factory  on  the  belt  line  at 
Kingston  street,  and  officials  predict  a  banner  growth  for 


THE  GROPER  217 

the  concern.    Production  for  1912  is  estimated  at  twenty 
thousand  cars." 

The  whole  thing  seemed  unreal.  Even  the  check  for  ten 
thousand  dollars  that  arrived  a  few  days  later  could  not 
quite  put  the  breath  of  actuality  into  the  miracle. 

Yet  this  was  but  the  first  of  a  series  of  similar  happenings. 

Hardly  had  the  month  passed  when  a  real  estate  man 
offered  Lee  forty  thousand  dollars  for  his  Broadway  lot. 
[Two  weeks  later,  the  same  dealer  suggested  fifty  thousand. 

Then  Lee  came  slowly  to  realise  what  was  beginning  to 
transpire  all  about  him. 

He  had  been  aware  in  a  sleepy  sort  of  way  that  Detroit 
had  grown  during  his  four  years'  residence.  The  crowds 
on  the  downtown  sidewalks  had  become  thicker.  There 
were  ten  times  as  many  automobiles  on  the  streets.  Busi- 
ness had  increased  fifty  per  cent,  at  the  Curran  store. 

He  had  lived  in  the  midst  of  these  facts,  yet  he  had 
hardly  sensed  their  significance.  He  had  been  so  preoccu- 
pied with  his  own  round  of  life  that  he  had  not  once  paused 
to  lift  his  head  and  catch  the  cadence  of  things  about  him. 
He  had  heard  vague  stories  about  the  city's  growth  and  its 
future  possibilities,  but  he  was  naturally  of  a  conservative, 
even  pessimistic  frame  of  mind,  and  he  discounted  most 
of  these  tales. 

But  now  he  sought  to  attune  his  ear  more  sensitively  to 
the  march  of  events.  Automobiles  and  real  estate — they 
were  the  magic  symbols!  Automobiles  were  a  necessity; 
the  market  for  them  had  hardly  been  touched;  Detroit  was 
the  centre  of  the  big  new  industry,  and  it  must  inevitably 
grow  as  the  business  grew.  That  meant  a  bigger  city — 
and  a  boom  in  real  estate. 

His  stimulated  imagination  discerned  the  spirit  of  ex- 
pansion, of  prosperity,  in  the  very  air.  He  began  to  won- 
der why  everybody  could  not  catch  the  vision.  Most  of  the 
people  still  came  and  went,  without  the  faintest  intimation 


218  THE  GROPER 

of  the  incredible  opportunities  that  invited  them  from 
every  side. 

A  great  many  timorous  souls,  indeed,  seemed  to  believe 
that  the  boom  was  just  ending,  instead  of  beginning.  They 
spoke  with  reluctance  of  the  opportunities  they  had  missed. 

"Henry  Ford  came  to  me  and  begged  me  to  put  in  a 
thousand  dollars.     Yes,  I  know  him  well." 

"That  property  on  Adams  avenue  just  sold  for  fifty  thou- 
sand dollars.  I  could  have  bought  it  ten  years  ago  for 
five  thousand." 

Lee  heard  such  plaints  everywhere.  The  could-have-put- 
money-in-the-Ford-Company  individuals  waxed  as  prevalent 
as  Mayflower  ancestors. 

But  the  optimists  who  believed  that  the  city's  prosperity 
had  hardly  started  were  still  few. 

Lee  decided  to  hold  his  Broadway  property  for  a  still 
higher  price — in  fact,  he  used  his  ten  thousand  dollar  divi- 
dend as  a  first  payment  on  the  fifty  feet  next  to  his  lot. 

That  same  spring,  he  refused  an  offer  of  fifty  thousand 
dollars  for  his  Durham  Motor  holdings. 


Ill 

IN  the  wake  of  his  new  and  astounding  prosperity,  cer- 
tain effects  inevitably  followed. 
He  suddenly  became  very  much  sought  after  socially, 
for  example. 

For  the  last  two  years,  his  appearance  in  "Society"  had 
been  sporadic.  Through  Fred  Badger,  he  continued  to  meet 
habitual  occupants  of  the  "Social  Column."  But  all  the 
currents  of  his  existence  had  seemed  adverse  to  his  becom- 
ing a  "Society  man."  First,  there  had  been  Mrs.  Curran; 
the  shame  of  that  situation  had  taken  away  some  of  his 
self-confidence.  Then  his  life  with  Ellwood  had  absorbed 
all  his  energies.  He  found  that  unlike  many  of  his  ac- 
quaintances, he  was  not  morally  facile  enough  to  frequent 
assignation  houses  and  exclusive  drawing  rooms  simultane- 
ously. 

But  strangely  enough,  he  who  had  by  now  lost  his  faith 
in  everything  except  money,  still  retained  somewhat  the 
illusion  about  "Society."  True,  the  words  "Four  Hundred" 
no  longer  produced  quite  the  same  thrill  of  Humility  in 
him.  Ellwood  James'  fierce  tirades  against  "swank,"  and 
Eleanor's  occasional  outbursts  on  the  subject  of  social 
hypocrisy  could  not  fail  to  have  opened  his  eyes  a  little. 
He  saw  through  the  cracks.  Yet  he  still  cherished  most 
of  his  old  awe,  still  genuflected  reverently  before  the  mystic 
shrine  of  what  he  called  Aristocracy. 

Fred's  friends  had  been  conventionally  polite  to  him. 
He  knew  he  was  regarded  as  an  unusually  successful  young 
business  man,  but  he  detected  a  certain  undercurrent  of 
levity  in  people's  attitudes,  as  if  they  were  saying:  "You 

219 


220  THE  GROPER 

don't  fool  us  for  a  minute.  We  know  how  you  bought 
success."  He  realised,  too,  that  he  was  a  man  of  no  "fam- 
ily." He  hadn't  the  faintest  notion  about  his  ancestors. 
It  had  never  seemed  to  matter  heretofore.  And  nearly 
every  girl  he  met  wanted  to  know  what  fraternity  he  had 
belonged  to  at  the  University. 

He  noticed  another  peculiar  social  phenomenon.  When- 
ever he  appeared  in  public  with  Fred  and  his  wife,  or 
under  some  equally  distinguished  patronage,  nearly  every- 
body seemed  to  speak  to  him.  But  let  him  appear  at  the 
theatre  alone  or  in  company  with  some  socially  obscure 
person,  and  not  one  of  his  elite  acquaintances  could  seem 
to  remember  him.  Not  that  they  were  crude  enough  to  cut 
him  outright.  But  in  some  odd  way,  their  eyes  failed  to 
meet  his. 

All  in  all,  Lee  had  been  made  very  much  aware  of  his 
social  deficiencies. 

But  now,  with  the  same  suddenness  as  his  new  affluence, 
social  popularity  descended  upon  his  astonished  head. 
Prominent  women,  who  had  seemed  doubtful  about  know- 
ing him,  nodded  clear  across  the  theatre  at  him,  no  matter 
who  his  companion.  He  figured  at  a  few  very  exclusive 
dinners  that  spring;  and  in  the  fall,  he  knew  every  debu- 
tante a  month  before  the  season  opened.  It  came  to  his 
ears  that  he  was  at  last  on  the  exclusive  list  maintained 
by  the  leading  social  entrepreneur  of  the  city. 

He  had  always  felt  a  little  awkward,  a  little  diffident 
about  expressing  his  opinions.  But  now  his  every  remark 
was  received  with  a  deference  subtly  flattering.  It  was 
evident  that  his  word  bore  weight.  "I  heard  you  said  such- 
and-such  to  So-and-so":  phrases  like  this  greeted  him  every- 
where he  went. 

Nowhere  was  this  strange  change  in  his  social  fortunes 
more  noticeable  than  with  Fred  and  Helene  Badger.  Fred 
had  been  his  social  sponsor  from  the  start;  yet  Lee  had 


THE  GROPER  221 

never  discerned  any  glow  of  pride  in  Fred's  demeanor.  As 
for  Helene,  it  had  been  only  too  evident  at  times  that  she 
chafed  at  her  husband's  patronage  of  Lee. 

She  was  an  avowed  advocate  of  keeping  social  lines  dis- 
tinct. 

"One  has  to  be  so  careful  whom  one  meets,"  Lee  heard 
her  say  on  one  occasion.  "Once  you've  been  introduced 
to  undesirable  people,  there's  almost  no  getting  rid  of  them." 

Enforced  association  with,  inferiors  caused  her  acute 
discomfort.  The  most  trying  events  in  her  life  were  the 
annual  visits  of  Fred's  wealthy  old  aunt,  Miss  Jane  Badger. 
Miss  Badger  lived  on  a  farm  one  hundred  miles  from  the 
city.  She  was  a  shrewd  old  lady,  and  Lee  rather  liked  her 
genuineness.  But  she  dressed  eccentrically,  and  she  had 
protruding  front  teeth.  Her  table  manners  were  rather  irri- 
tating, too.  She  had  an  unfortunate  habit  of  opening  her 
mouth  when  she  chewed,  and  she  was  not  to  be  deprived 
of  the  solid  enjoyment  of  a  post-prandial  tooth-pick. 

During  such  visits  Lee  could  see  that  Helene  was  slowly 
perishing  of  mortification.  Yet  she  did  not  dare  offend 
the  old  lady.  Miss  Badger  was  rich,  and  Fred  and  Eleanor 
were  the  only  relatives  she  liked.  Besides,  she  was  quite 
feeble,  and  could  not  possibly  live  much  longer. 

So  Helene  must  smile  upon  the  unwelcome  visitor  even 
though  she  was  inwardly  frozen  with  indignation.  It  made 
an  amusing  picture. 

But  now  Fred's  wife,  too,  beamed  on  Lee.  The  personnel 
of  her  dinner  parties  improved.  Instead  of  social  negli- 
gibles,  she  began  producing  marriageable  young  women.  Her 
particular  boon-companion  she  contrived  to  throw  in  Lee's 
company  so  frequently  that  their  engagement  was  rumored. 

Lee  was  no  more  than  human.  He  was  as  susceptible  to 
flattery — even  obvious  flattery — as  the  next  man.  He  could 
not  help  feeling  enormously  more  important  than  before. 


222  THE  GROPER 

On  every  side,  charming  people  took  his  every  pronounce- 
ment as  well-nigh  infallible. 

The  only  thing  that  saved  him  from  following  the  lines 
of  least  resistance  and  entering  into  some  convenient  mar- 
riage was  the  circumstance  that  all  this  homage  was  so 
grossly  overdone.  It  was  positively  banal.  He  became 
blase  in  the  nick  of  time.  His  sense  of  humor  at  the  battle 
of  the  dowagers  over  him  intervened  providentially. 

His  narrowest  escape  really  was  with  Renee  Reynolds. 
She  was  the  one  girl  among  the  fashionables  with  whom 
he  had  kept  up  some  semblance  of  friendship  from  the 
beginning.  She  had  been  "nice"  to  him — that  is,  she  had 
let  him  call  frequently  and  take  her  to  the  theatre.  He  even 
prided  himself  that  she  numbered  him  among  the  list  of 
remotely  eligible  suitors.  Still,  he  was  aware  of  being  but 
one  among  many.  Renee  required  numbers  of  attentive 
men;  an  evening  alone  at  home  she  counted  a  failure. 

Now,  however,  Lee  was  promptly  taken  into  the  inner 
circle.  She  assumed  a  softer  attitude  with  him.  In  a  score 
of  unanalysable  ways,  she  made  him  see  that  she  had  come 
to  care  for  him.  Her  mother  urged  him  to  come  frequently 
for  dinner;  her  father  told  him  pseudo-humorous  stories. 

At  this  juncture,  Lee  came  to  perceive  that  there  were 
"sets  within  sets."  Helene  Badger  took  occasion  to  con- 
vey to  him  that  Renee  didn't  really  "belong."  She  was  "in 
Society,"  but  not  a  member  of  the  inmost  group. 

Lee's  impressions  were  just  plastic  enough  at  this  stage 
to  take  the  warning  seriously.  He  became  critical  of  Renee; 
she  no  longer  dazzled  him.  He  began  to  resent  the  vague 
intimations  of  proprietorship  which  up  to  now  had  been 
subtly  gratifying  to  him. 

The  next  time  he  called  on  Renee  he  kept  his  eyes  open. 
Cold-bloodedly,  he  noted  the  appeal  of  her  decollete  gown, 
her  neck  and  arms;  the  artificial  brightness  of  her  color; 


THE  GROPER  223 

the  way  she  looked  at  him.  He  even  distinguished  the  faint* 
ly  sensuous  redolence  of  sachet  powder. 

Many  a  time  he  had  been  tempted  to  take  her  in  his 
arms;  and  now  he  perceived  that  this  was  precisely  the 
emotion  that  Renee's  whole  appearance  was  calculated  to 
beget  in  men. 

He  knew  if  he  yielded  to  this  temptation,  he  would  be 
inescapably  enmeshed  in  silken  nets.  He  could  almost  hear 
her  first  prompt  question:  "What  makes  you  want  to  kiss 
me?" — and  his  own  somehow-forced  response. 

The  bait  of  sex!    Vague  reminiscences  stirred  in  him. 

But  what  was  this  Renee  was  saying? 

"The  man  I  marry  must  be  able  to  make  a  lot  of  money." 

She  said  it  with  a  kind  of  charming  daring.  Somehow 
it  was  obviously  a  tribute  to  his  own  abilities. 

All  at  once  he  remembered. 

Dolores  McGovern! 

Renee  Reynolds  had  used  almost  the  same  words  as  the 
self-reliant  little  fur-sales-girl.  She  employed  almost  the 
same  sex-appeal.  The  only  differences  between  them  were 
all  in  Dolores'  favor.  She  was  indisputably  better  look- 
ing than  Renee,  and  she  earned  her  own  living.  She  per- 
formed a  definite  economic  service  to  the  world;  whereas 
Renee's  only  apparent  function  in  life  was  to  be  an  alluring 
parasite. 

That  episode  marked  another  turning  point  in  Lee's  social 
progress.  He  began  to  see  sham  everywhere.  It  dawned 
on  him  as  just  possible  that  his  sudden  prosperity  might 
have  had  something  to  do  with  his  social  triumphs.  Evi- 
dently, a  single  man  with  money  could  get  anywhere  he 
wanted.  He  came  to  regard  his  new  friendships  with  dis- 
trust: the  girls  who  wanted  him  for  his  money;  the  sleek- 
looking  "Society  men" — many  of  them  cock-sure  little  per- 
sons, living,  Lee  knew,  on  allowances  from  their  wives  or 
mothers — who  spoke  about  "comfort"  as  if  it  were  the  high- 


224  THE  GROPER 

est  quest  of  any  man,  and  who  besieged  Lee  for  "tips"  about 
motor  stocks  and  real  estate.  Many  of  them — men  and 
women  both — were  charming,  many  of  them  amusing;  they 
all  had  their  flashes  of  sincerity:  but,  one  and  all,  they 
failed  of  reality.  They  were  not  vital.  "Public  Futilities," 
Ellwood  James  called  them.  Lee  sometimes  felt  that  what 
they  most  lacked,  by  way  of  saving  grace,  was  a  touch  of 
vulgarity. 

Yet  these  people,  by  their  profound  conviction  of  their 
own  superiority,  somehow  persuaded  the  rest  of  mankind — ■ 
most  of  it,  anyway — that  they  were  in  very  surety  a  higher 
race  of  beings;  that  being  "in  Society"  mysteriously  en- 
dowed men  and  women  with  virtues  of  a  higher  order;  that 
a  "Society  man"  or  a  "Society  woman"  was  indefinably 
different  and  better  than  other  human  beings.  It  was  "a 
splendid  example,  Lee  reflected,  of  the  power  of  sheer  self- 
conceit.  Thus,  outsiders  continued  to  look  longingly  up 
at  "Society's"  sacred  precincts,  and  newly  rich  women  kept 
up  the  determined  struggle  to  batter  their  way  somehow 
through  its  thick  walls. 


IV 

THERE  seemed  no  stopping  Lee's  phenomenal  finan- 
cial rise.    It  began  to  be  said  of  him,  as  it  had  been 
of  P.  H.  Taladay,  that  everything  he  touched  turned 
to  gold. 

His  operations  remained  comparatively  simple.  He  still 
retained  his  Durham  Motor  Company  holdings,  which  by 
dint  of  stock  dividends,  had  increased  to  a  par  value  of 
fifty  thousand  dollars.  Lee's  dividends  in  the  years  1912 
and  1913  amounted  to  forty-five  thousand  dollars.  He 
valued  his  stock  at  more  than  one  hundred  thousand. 

In  the  spring  of  1913,  he  sold  his  Broadway  lots  for  one 
hundred  and  sixty  thousand  dollars — just  twice  what  he 
had  paid  for  them.  This  sum,  together  with  a  part  of  his 
Durham  dividends,  he  at  once  re-invested  in  Woodward 
avenue  frontage,  a  few  blocks  above  Grand  Circus  Park. 

Roughly  speaking,  he  was  now  worth  at  least  three  hun- 
dred thousand  dollars. 

At  this  time,  he  resigned  his  position  as  advertising  mana- 
ger of  Curran  &  Co. 

He  had  been  contemplating  the  move  for  nearly  a  year. 
His  outside  interests  did  not  require  very  much  of  his  time, 
but  he  found  his  work  at  the  store  increasingly  confining. 
When  one  has  become  accustomed  to  thinking  in  terms  of 
tens — yes,  hundreds — of  thousands  of  dollars,  it  seems  irk- 
some to  spend  one's  energies  describing  the  alluring  qualities 
of  women's  waists  and  children's  underwear.  Even  his  sal- 
ary— now  seven  thousand  five  hundred  dollars — appeared 
petty. 

All  in  all,  Lee  could  not  escape  the  conviction  that  he  was 
destined  for  bigger  things. 

225 


226  THE  GROPER 

Howard  Doman  received  his  decision  with  his  character- 
istic expression  of  captivated  gravity. 

"I  don't  suppose  an  increase  of  salary  would  tempt  you," 
he  reconnoitred.  "I'd  planned  to  raise  you  gradually  to 
ten  thousand  a  year.  The  job  isn't  really  worth  any  more 
than  that." 

"It  isn't  a  question  of  money,"  confirmed  Lee. 

"I  see,"  answered  Doman.  "Well,  what  are  you  going 
to  do  with  yourself,  anyway?" 

Lee  admitted  that  his  plans  were  vague.  "My  invest- 
ments will  take  quite  a  good  deal  of  time." 

"Investments!"  exclaimed  the  rotund  merchandise  mana- 
ger. "Investments  are  all  very  well  as  a  side  issue,  but  a 
man  of  your  calibre  wants  some  work  to  put  his  heart  and 
brains  into."  He  paused  abruptly,  and  clapped  Lee  on  the 
shoulder  half-apologetically.  "There,  there!  I  didn't  mean 
to  climb  into  the  pulpit.  If  you've  made  up  your  mind  to 
leave  us,  there'll  be  no  keeping  you,  I  suspect.  But  I'm 
sorry  to  see  you  go.  You  have  advertising  brains,  and  be- 
sides, I'll  miss  you." 

Doman  no  longer  assumed  his  former  heroic  proportions 
in  his  assistant's  mind;  yet  Lee  had  never  lost  his  whole- 
hearted respect  and  liking  for  the  big  man.  Doman  had 
been  his  loyal  friend  from  the  beginning. 

They  said  good-bye  a  little  sadly.  Lee  remarked  anew 
the  startling  contradiction  between  Doman's  impassive, 
flabby  face  and  his  alive,  ever-questioning  eyes. 

"Come  up  once  in  a  while  and  see  how  we're  getting 
along,"  said  the  merchandise  manager. 

Lee  left  the  elevator  at  the  mezzanine  balcony  and  stood 
for  a  few  moments  looking  out  over  the  busy  main  floor — 
just  as  he  had  been  in  the  habit'  of  doing  in  the  old  building. 
There  was  no  doubting  the  tremendous  organic  change 
that  Doman  had  wrought  in  the  big  store.  It  was  not  only 
the  more  obvious  improvements:   the  broader  aisles,  the 


THE  GROPER  227 

neater  displays,  the  better  light  and  air.  It  was  something 
that  Lee  felt,  rather  than  saw — a  new  spirit,  a  new  atmos- 
phere. Doman  had  achieved  the  miracle  of  transforming 
the  army  of  disgruntled,  discouraged  employes  into  a 
force  of  eager,  courteous  helpers.  The  old  "knocking"  had 
disappeared  forever.  Curran  salaries  were  fifty  per  cent, 
higher  than  in  any  other  department  store  in  Detroit — but 
that  was  not  all.  Every  salesman  in  the  establishment  knew 
he  was  getting  a  square  deal.  His  pay  depended  on  his 
sales.  If  he  deserved  promotion,  he  was  sure  to  get  it  even- 
tually.   He  no  longer  had  to  toady  or  pull  wires. 

Doman  had  even  introduced  a  system  of  limited  profit- 
sharing.  The  preceding  Christmas  he  had  distributed  a  total 
of  more  than  one  hundred  thousand  dollars,  in  the  form  of 
bonuses,  to  his  employes.  He  paid  salaries  to  salesmen  even 
when  they  were  on  sick-leave,  and  he  employed  competent 
doctors  and  nurses  to  attend  them. 

The  most  surprising  feature  of  Doman's  reforms  was 
that  the  Curran  store  was  making  more  money  than  ever 
before.  Gross  sales  were  forty  per  cent,  higher,  and  the 
stockholders  received  twenty  per  cent,  dividends,  instead  of 
eighteen. 


BY  the  spring  of  1914,  when  he  became  thirty  years 
old,  Lee  Hillquit  was  worth  half  a  million  dollars. 
People  said  he  was  a  millionaire;  and  indeed,  his 
available  capital,  increased  by  bank  loans,  did  not  far  lag 
behind  seven  figures. 

He  lived  luxuriously  in  an  Indian  Village  house  which  he 
had  bought  the  preceding  fall,  and  already  he  was  looking 
around  for  an  adequate  country  estate.  He  owned  a  limou- 
sine and  a  six-cylinder  touring  car.  Six  perfectly  fitting 
suits,  a  dozen  pair  of  shoes,  a  half-hundred  fresh  cravats 
awaited  his  critical  choice  each  morning.  He  belonged  to 
three  city  clubs  and  two  country  clubs;  and  he  played  golf 
three  afternoons  a  week. 

He  had  been  elected  a  director  in  one  of  the  three  strong- 
est Detroit  banks.  One  of  his  fellow-directors,  by  an  odd 
chance,  was  P.  H.  Taladay,  with  whom  he  was  now  on 
very  friendly  terms.  He  contributed  to  the  Republican 
party's  campaign  fund,  and  it  was  rumored  that  he  had  in- 
fluence with  the  city  administration. 

All  Detroit  knew  him  and  the  story  of  his  remarkable 
rise  to  power.  He  found  himself  in  demand  as  a  speaker 
in  the  public  schools  and  before  various  young  people's 
organisations.  His  topic  was  usually:  "How  to  Succeed"; 
and  his  unvarying  recipes  to  the  younger  generation  were 
Hard  Work  and  the  Virtuous  Life. 

Small  wonder  that  Lee's  ideas  about  himself  had  under- 
gone considerable  change. 

In  the  beginning,  his  new  prosperity  had  taken  the  sem- 
blance of  a  mirage.    When  he  thought  of  his  abject  poverty 

228 


THE  GROPER  229 

of  a  few  years  ago,  the  new  order  of  things  was  simply 
incredible.  He  had  no  illusions  about  himself  at  first.  He 
had  achieved  his  start  because  an  older  woman  conceived  a 
hardly  laudable  passion  for  him.  The  rest  had  been  pure 
luck.  He  himself  would  never  have  thought  of  investing 
in  real  estate  or  Durham  Motors.  That  was  Mrs.  Cur- 
ran's  doing,  too.  He  hadn't  turned  a  hand.  He  knew 
practically  nothing  about  the  Durham  factory.  He  was 
not  responsible  in  the  remotest  way  for  Detroit's  growth 
and  its  consequent  real  estate  boom.  He  had  produced 
only  a  negligible  fraction  of  his  wealth  by  his  own  efforts. 
It  was  sheer  accident  that  he  was  a  rich  man. 

But  as  time  went  by,  Lee  began  to  ascribe  higher  virtues 
to  himself.  The  whole  city  was  calling  him  a  Captain  of 
Finance.  Perhaps  people  were  right.  It  was  almost  in- 
evitable that  he  should  gradually  come  to  think  of  himself 
as  a  man  of  rare  judgment,  of  uncanny  intuition,  in  all  that 
pertained  to  investments. 

It  was  inevitable,  also,  that  he  should  instinctively  begin 
casting  about  for  some  adequate  opportunity  of  exercising 
his  newly  appreciated  abilities.  His  withdrawal  from  the 
Curran  store  left  him  with  more  leisure  than  he  wanted. 
He  discovered  that  he  was  becoming  restless. 

Early  one  morning  in  May,  1914,  Fred  Badger  telephoned 
Lee  at  his  house. 

"Can  you  take  lunch  with  Will  Eaton  and  me  this  noon?" 
Fred  interrogated.  "We're  working  on  a  new  deal  I  think 
you  might  be  interested  in." 

Lee  acquiesced,  without  any  great  animation.  Fred  was 
always  suggesting  "deals,"  but  Lee  found  few  of  them 
attractive.  He  had  invested  a  few  thousand  dollars  in 
Fred's  schemes,  and  on  the  whole  he  had  lost  money.  He 
had  never  quite  succeeded  in  getting  over  his  first  awe  of 
Fred ;  yet  by  now  he  did  entertain  some  slight  misgivings  as 
to  his  friend's  infallibility  as  a  financial  expert. 


230  THE  GROPER 

They  met  that  noon  at  a  downtown  club.  Will  Eaton 
proved  to  be  a  stranger  of  about  Lee's  own  age.  His  home 
was  in  Boston,  he  explained;  but  he  had  been  associated 
with  a  Cleveland  automobile  factory  until  recently.  He 
was  of  medium  stature,  pale  and  chastely  ascetic  of  coun- 
tenance, aristocratic  of  feature,  and  slightly  disapproving 
of  demeanor.  His  eye-glasses  added  to  his  look  of  austere 
aloofness,  and  his  thin  lips  curved  down  judicially  at  the 
corners.  He  spoke  in  measured  fashion,  as  if  weighing  his 
words — with  an  accent  that  seemed  authentically  Bostonese. 

"He  comes  from  one  of  the  best  families  in  Massachu- 
setts," confided  Fred  at  an  opportune  moment.  "He  has 
splendid  letters  of  introduction." 

But  Mr.  Eaton,  of  Boston,  was  something  more  than  the 
scion  of  a  splendid  Massachusetts  family,  it  soon  developed. 
He  admitted  at  once  that  he  had  few  peers  as  an  automobile 
engineer.  He  had  just  completed  his  sixth  year  in  the  busi- 
ness, and  he  pined  for  larger  fields. 

"There  was  no  future  for  me  in  Cleveland,"  he  told  them. 
"The  people  I  was  associated  with  have  a  conservative, 
old-fashioned  design,  and  no  power  under  Heaven  could 
open  their  eyes  to  anything  new.  That's  why  I  severed  con- 
nections with  them." 

What  he  wanted,  Mr.  Eaton  explained  over  his  demi- 
tasse,  was  to  find  out  whether  or  not  Detroit  was  enough 
of  a  "live"  town  to  finance  a  new  automobile  company. 

"Of  course,  if  this  city  can't  do  it,  I'll  go  back  East," 
he  said  with  an  eloquent  shrug  of  his  shoulders.  "I  have 
assurances  from  Boston  capitalists  that  they  will  back  me. 
But  I  feel  that  Detroit  is  the  hub  of  the  industry,  and  as 
such,  deserves  first  consideration." 

"I  told  Will  that  Lee  Hillquit  was  the  man  to  swing  the 
deal,  if  any  one  could,"  put  in  Fred  Badger. 

Eaton's  frosty  eye  surveyed  Lee  with  what  purported  to 
be  admiration. 


THE  GROPER  231 

"Yes,"  he  echoed,  "I  heard  a  great  deal  of  you  down  in 
Cleveland." 

He  expatiated  fluently.  The  design  for  the  new  car  was 
quite  novel.  He  had  been  planning  it  for  the  last  two  years. 
The  estimated  price  was  twelve  hundred  dollars. 

He  produced  a  few  blue  prints. 

"Just  look  at  the  lines  of  it!"  he  exclaimed  with  undis- 
guised pride.  "It  is  at  least  two  years  ahead  of  any  car 
made  in  America,  and  I  venture  to  say  you'll  find  nothing 
prettier  even  in  France." 

"Very  snappy,"  commented  Lee.  To  tell  the  truth,  the 
design  did  not  impress  him  as  especially  original;  but  he 
bowed  to  more  expert  knowledge. 

"Six  cylinder,  high-speed  motor,"  continued  Eaton. 
"That's  an  innovation  in  a  low-priced  car.  Self-starter  and 
everything  else  that  the  more  expensive  cars  have." 

So  far  as  the  design  went,  he  explained,  the  car  was  an 
assured  success.  The  only  requirements  that  remained  were 
a  first-class  organisation  and  enough  capital  to  keep  things 
going  for  six  months. 

"How  much  money  will  you  need?"  asked  Lee.  The 
proposition  interested  him  keenly. 

The  man  from  Boston  drew  from  his  pocket  a  notebook 
filled  with  figures. 

"Frankly,  I  see  no  necessity  of  beginning  in  a  small  way," 
he  argued.  "I  know  enough  of  factory  organisation  to  avoid 
the  usual  mistakes.  Therefore,  I  propose  to  start  on  a  rea- 
sonably large  scale.  I  should  like  to  begin  manufacturing 
before  fall,  and  I  want  an  output  of  at  least  ten  thousand 
cars  the  first  year." 

He  consulted  his  figures.  "We  should  have  at  least  five 
hundred  thousand  dollars  available  capital,"  he  estimated. 
"Suppose  our  capital  stock  is  three  hundred  thousand;  we 
ought  to  be  able  to  secure  most  of  the  balance  from  the 
local  banks." 


232  THE  GROPER 

He  went  into  greater  detail:  so  much  for  parts,  so  much 
for  advertising,  for  labor,  for  overhead  expense.  Lee  lis- 
tened with  an  expression  appropriate  to  a  financial  expert. 
He  would  not  admit  to  himself  that  he  understood  very  little 
of  what  the  aristocratic  Mr.  Eaton  was  setting  forth. 

"What  are  you  planning  to  name  the  concern?"  he  asked. 

Eaton  removed  his  glasses  and  polished  them  reflectively. 
"The  usual  practice,  I  believe,  is  to  name  the  car  after  the 
designer,"  he  vouchsafed.  "I  am  of  the  opinion  that  it 
should  be  known  as  the  'Eaton.'  " 

Lee  was  conscious  of  a  slight  waning  of  his  enthusiasm. 

"I'll  think  it  over,"  he  said  at  the  conclusion  of  their  con- 
ference. "I'm  not  sure  that  the  automobile  industry  isn't 
already  overdone  in  Detroit.  It's  harder  than  it  was  to  get 
lines  of  credit  at  the  banks." 

Eaton  seemed  not  one  whit  anxious.  "Very  likely,"  he 
acquiesced.  "At  any  rate,  I  must  know  the  situation  with- 
in the  next  few  days.  I  don't  feel  that  I  can  hold  the 
matter  open  much  longer." 

Lee  took  a  few  of  the  blue  prints,  and  jotted  down  soma 
of  the  designer's  estimates. 

"I'll  see  what  I  can  do,"  he  promised. 

His  first  impression  of  the  project  had  been  distinctly 
favorable.  It  seemed  to  present  exactly  the  right  opportU" 
nity  for  his  abilities.  He  visualised  a  great  new  concrete* 
and-glass  automobile  factory,  thousands  of  mechanics  with* 
in  its  walls,  a  phenomenal  production  and  sale  of  cars,  a 
record-breaking  prosperity.  Then  he  pictured  the  mahog- 
any furniture  and  panelling  of  the  president's  office.  He 
saw  himself  sitting  at  the  president's  desk,  scores  of  subordi- 
nates hurrying  to  him  for  his  quick  decisions,  his  hand  on 
the  throttle  of  the  mighty  industry.  Lee  Hillquit,  the  new 
Automobile  King!     His  fame  would  encompass  the  globe. 

An  unpleasant  thought  obtruded.  Eaton  wanted  the  new 
automobile  and  the  new  company  named  after  himself.    It 


THE  GROPER  233 

would  be  the  name  of  Eaton,  not  Hillquit,  that  would  be- 
come known  to  the  Hottentot  and  the  Esquimau.  Perhaps 
the  Bostoner  might  lay  claim  to  the  presidency,  too.  If  a 
man  was  unreasonable  in  one  thing,  he  might  very  well  prove 
the  same  in  all  things. 

Lee  went  over  the  ground  with  some  care,  nevertheless. 
Alfred  Durham,  who  was  still  chief  designer  emeritus  of 
the  Durham  Company,  was  in  Europe  on  a  vacation;  but 
Lee  submitted  the  Eaton  design  to  Hal  Conrad,  Durham's 
first  assistant,  and  to  a  few  other  automobile  men  of  his 
acquaintance. 

Opinions  differed  widely.  Conrad  declared  that  Eaton's 
plans  were  quite  unoriginal.  "There's  nothing  new  here," 
he  adjudged.  "As  to  the  opportunity  in  Detroit  for  a  new 
medium-priced  car,  I  really  don't  know." 

Other  experts  were  more  encouraging.  The  sales  manager 
of  one  of  the  largest  automobile  companies  in  the  city  en- 
thused over  the  blue-prints. 

"I've  never  seen  such  beautiful  lines,"  he  announced.  "I 
think  the  car  would  create  a  sensation." 

Still  others,  while  not  so  enamored  of  Eaton's  design, 
pronounced  it  perfectly  sound,  and  assured  Lee  that  there 
was  plenty  of  room  for  a  new  car  in  the  twelve  hundred  dol- 
lar class. 

The  cashier  of  Lee's  bank  rather  threw  cold  water  on 
the  project. 

"I'd  stay  out,"  he  said.  "You'll  make  more  money  in 
real  estate.  Besides,  we're  loaded  up  to  the  gills  on  motor 
credits  already.    We  couldn't  help  you  much." 

The  third  day  after  his  talk  with  Eaton,  Lee  told  Fred 
Badger  he  had  made  up  his  mind  not  to  go  in  on  the  propo- 
sition. 

Fred  betrayed  keen  chagrin.  "That's  too  bad,"  he 
brooded.    "Eaton  will  be  disappointed.    You  made  a  big 


234  THE  PROPER 

hit  with  him.    He  said  you  had  all  the  earmarks  of  a  finan- 
cial genius." 

"Well,  I  liked  him,  too,"  hastened  Lee.  "I  judge  that 
he's  a  brilliant  designer.  But  for  one  thing,  I  believe  he's 
putting  too  high  a  price  on  his  plans." 

Fred  looked  puzzled. 

"He  wants  the  company  and  the  car  named  after  him- 
self," Lee  went  on,  "and  I  suspect  he'll  want  too  big  a 
percentage  of  the  stock.  No  capitalist  is  going  to  put  money 
into  the  concern  on  those  terms." 

"Well,  I  don't  think  Eaton  is  so  set  on  having  the  car 
named  after  himself,"  said  Fred  slowly.  "Personally,  I 
think  it  should  be  named  after  you,  or  whoever  finances 
the  company.  As  to  how  much  stock  Eaton  wants,  of 
course  I  can't  say,  but  I  think  he  might  listen  to  reason." 

At  Lee's  suggestion,  Fred  had  another  talk  with  Eaton; 
and  a  day  or  two  later,  the  three  met  for  lunch  again. 

"I've  given  further  consideration  to  the  question  of  the 
name  of  the  new  corporation,"  announced  Eaton  almost  at 
once.  "My  present  thought  is  that  it  would  be  better  to 
employ  the  name  of  some  prominent  Detroiter,  such  as  your- 
self. If  you,  for  example,  should  decide  to  back  the  com- 
pany, I  should  be  in  favor  of  calling  it  the  Hillquit  Motor 
Company,  and  naming  the  car  the  'Hillquit,'  instead  of  the 
'Eaton.' " 

"Well,  I  don't  know,"  Lee  debated,  though  inwardly  he 
was  intensely  gratified.  "As  far  as  I  am  concerned,  I  care 
nothing  about  the  honor;  but  possibly  the  company  might 
gain  some  prestige  by  having  my  name  at  the  head." 

"Precisely,"  said  Eaton,  and  a  look  of  understanding 
passed  between  them. 

Then — in  one  of  those  flashes  of  perfect  insight  that  come 
only  to  Masters  of  Finance — Lee  decided  that  he  would  go 
in  on  the  proposition. 

Before  they  left  the  table,  they  had  agreed  on  the  rough 


THE  GROPER  235 

outlines  of  organisation.  The  Hillquit  Motor  Company  was 
to  be  capitalised  at  one  million  dollars.  Lee  agreed  to  put 
in  three  hundred  and  fifty  thousand  dollars  within  sixty 
days,  and  he  was  given  a  year's  option  on  an  additional 
hundred  and  fifty  thousand  dollars  worth  of  stock.  Will 
Eaton  wanted  one  hundred  thousand  dollars  in  stock,  out* 
right,  for  his  designs,  and  a  contract  whereby  he  might  pur- 
chase a  second  hundred  thousand  dollar  block  on  easy 
terms.  Lee  felt  that  these  demands  were  rather  unreason* 
able;  but  Eaton  had  been  so  magnanimous  about  the  name 
of  the  concern  that  he  hesitated  to  quibble  with  him.  The 
remaining  three  hundred  thousand  dollars  of  stock  was  to 
be  sold  to  outsiders  by  Fred  Badger  at  a  profitable  com- 
mission. Fred  was  also  to  receive  a  goodly  block  of  stock 
from  Eaton  in  return  for  his  efforts  in  promoting  the  cor- 
poration. Lee  was  slated  to  become  president,  Eaton  vice- 
president  and  chief  designer,  and  Fred  Badger  secretary  and 
treasurer. 

The  formal  incorporation  occurred  within  a  week,  and 
then  Lee  sent  for  the  reporters.  The  afternoon  papers  ran 
first  page  stories  on  the  new  company.  For  a  day  or  two, 
Lee  had  his  fill  of  publicity.  He  could  not  open  a  news- 
paper without  coming  upon  a  photograph  of  himself.  The 
press  referred  to  him  as  a  "Thirty-year-old  Napoleon," 
"Detroit's  Youngest  Motor  Marvel";  and  while  he  adopted 
a  deprecating  attitude  in  public,  his  secret  enjoyment  of  his 
fame  was  enormous. 

But  it  cost  him  a  severe  pang  to  dispose  of  enough  of  his 
property  to  raise  the  stipulated  three  hundred  and  fifty  thou- 
sand dollars.  After  some  reflection,  he  sold  two-thirds  of 
his  Durham  Motor  stock  for  one  hundred  and  ten  thousand 
dollars,  and  over  half  of  his  Woodward  Avenue  frontage  for 
one  hundred  and  eighty  thousand.  The  remaining  sixty 
thousand  dollars  he  secured  by  mortgaging  the  balance  of 
his  real  estate. 


236  THE  GROPER 

The  Hillquit  Company's  preparations  went  on  apace. 

Before  hot  weather  set  in,  Fred  Badger  had  placed  most 
of  the  three  hundred  thousand  dollar  block  of  stock.  By 
August  1st,  1914,  the  corporation  had  purchased  and 
equipped  a  west-side  factory.  Automobile  parts  began 
pouring  in — the  "Hillquit"  was  to  be  largely  an  assembled 
car,  at  first;  and  at  exactly  twenty-seven  minutes  after 
three  o'clock  on  the  afternoon  of  October  the  fifth,  the  first 
Hillquit  touring  car,  resplendent  in  glossy  paint  and  gleam- 
ing nickel  and  brass,  was  trundled  out  of  the  shipping  room 
door,  and  to  the  accompaniment  of  the  hoarse  factory  whis- 
tle, turned  over  to  President  Hillquit,  for  a  triumphal  drive 
through  the  downtown  streets. 

It  was  purely  incidental  that  Lee  could  not,  for  the  life 
of  him,  make  the  car  budge.  The  newspapers  were  induced 
to  make  no  mention  of  the  fact;  and  the  moving  picture 
photographers  obligingly  "killed"  their  films  from  the  point 
where  Lee,  at  the  conclusion  of  the  preliminary  ceremonies, 
resumed  his  top  hat  and  clambered  into  the  refractory  auto- 
mobile. 


VI 

BEING  president  of  a  large  motor  corporation,  Lee 
speedily  discovered,  was  quite  different  than  he  had 
imagined.  The  picture  that  had  taken  form  in  his 
mind  was  thoroughly  alluring:  he  had  been  captivated  at  the 
prospect  of  vast  power,  countless  deferential  assistants,  enor- 
mous prestige.  The  spectacular  aspect  of  high  office  had 
appealed  to  him.  He  had  visualised  himself  in  a  hundred 
impressive  poses.  But  the  actuality  was  far  from  titillating. 
The  responsibility  of  making  portentous  decisions  gave  him 
no  fine  thrill  at  all;  it  was  just  hard  work,  monotonous,  fatig- 
uing, prosaic.  Opportunities  for  showing  off  were  few  and 
far  between.  He  was  wholly  lacking  in  administrative  ex- 
perience, and  he  had  no  first-hand  knowledge  of  the  auto- 
mobile business  whatever.  Accordingly,  he  found  himself 
referring  more  and  more  decisions  to  Will  Eaton. 

But  though  Lee  knew  nothing  of  shop  management  and 
the  various  processes  of  manufacturing,  he  really  could  qual- 
ify as  an  advertising  expert.  Incidentally,  he  had  picked 
up  some  understanding  of  salesmanship.  Therefore,  he 
gravitated  slowly  toward  the  publicity  and  sales  depart- 
ments. Some  of  the  advertising  copy  that  he  turned  out 
during  the  winter  was  extraordinarily  good.  Howard  Do- 
man  and  a  number  of  other  well-known  "ad-men"  wrote 
him  letters  of  appreciation.  The  sales  department,  also, 
felt  his  energising  touch.  Within  six  months  he  had  organ- 
ised a  first-rate  selling  force  throughout  the  country. 

All  in  all,  in  spite  of  his  frustrated  posings  and  his  grow- 
ing sense  of  ineptitude,  Lee's  new  career  thoroughly  ab- 
sorbed him  during  those  first  months  of  the  Hillquit  Motor 

237 


238  THE  GROPER 

Company's  existence.  It  was  incredible  to  him  that  he  had 
not  always  known  the  feeling  of  affluence  and  power.  The 
past  took  on  a  dream-like  quality. 

Then  abruptly,  this  self-same  past  reached  out  from  the 
limbo  of  forgotten  things  and  laid  its  hands  violently  upon 
him.  Within  a  few  days  of  each  other,  two  incidents  fur- 
rowed their  way  across  his  life — incidents  quite  dissimilar, 
yet  curiously  alike. 

One  evening  Lee  left  the  factory  very  late.  Usually,  he 
carried  one  or  more  passengers  in  his  limousine,  but  to- 
night, he  was  alone. 

He  noted  that  it  was  seven  o'clock,  and  an  idea  came 
to  him.  He  told  the  chauffeur  to  drive  down  Woodward 
avenue,  instead  of  directly  home. 

It  was  snowing  heavily,  and  he  glanced  at  the  people  hur- 
rying along  through  the  storm. 

At  Grand  Circus  Park,  he  left  the  limousine. 

"Tell  the  housekeeper  I'm  dining  downtown,"  he  directed 
the  surprised  driver. 

He  was  in  an  impressionable  mood — for  the  first  time  in 
months.  The  large  soft  flakes  of  snow  sifting  down  thickly, 
the  multitudes  of  people  all  mantled  heavily  in  white,  the 
hundreds  of  lights  shining  mystically  through  the  trees  from 
the  windows  of  the  new  skyscrapers  about  the  Park:  these 
and  countless  other  sights  and  sounds  impinged  suggestively 
upon  his  consciousness. 

All  at  once  he  became  aware  that  he  had  paused,  as  if 
from  force  of  habit,  opposite  the  door  of  a  certain  cafe 
which  had  served  as  the  favorite  rendezvous  of  Ellwood 
James  and  himself  three  or  four  years  ago.  The  spectacle 
of  the  familiar  electric  sign  aroused  a  definite  curiosity  in 
him.  He  wondered  what  kind  of  an  appeal  this  cafe  and 
the  things  it  represented  could  make  to  him  now. 

His  old  crony,  the  head-captain,  had  disappeared.  Even 
the  girl  who  checked  his  coat  and  hat  was  a  stranger.    The 


THE  GROPER  239 

whole  place  seemed  unfamiliar.  The  habitues  looked  very- 
much  the  same,  and  the  same  old  sort  of  an  orchestra 
was  wrenching  out  plangent  dance  music.  But  everything 
was  different,  nevertheless.  The  old  gilded  pilasters,  the 
colored  lights,  the  illuminated  fountain  seemed  garish.  The 
air  he  breathed  was  stuffy.  The  people  he  watched  were 
noisily  vulgar,  the  laughter  of  the  bedizened  women  irritat- 
ingly  strident. 

Then  it  dawned  upon  him  that  the  change  was  in  himself. 
He  marvelled  that  he  could  have  found  his  life  with  Ellwood 
so  inescapable.  Perhaps  it  was  the  necromancy  of  alcohol 
that  had  made  this  stupid  place  seem  alluring — a  haven  of 
refuge  from  the  despair  that  racked  him  in  those  days. 

His  dinner  was  poorly  cooked  and  poorly  served.  He  paid 
the  check  and  started  out,  with  a  taste  of  complete  disillu- 
sionment. 

Near  the  door  he  passed  a  table  where  sat  Ellwood  James. 
Their  eyes  met  at  the  same  instant,  and  Lee  stopped. 

He  had  not  encountered  the  light-hearted  young  philan- 
derer for  two  years,  and  he  was  struck  with  the  change  in 
his  old  friend's  appearance.  Ellwood  looked  indescribably 
world-worn.  It  was  as  if  some  gigantic  wheel  had  caught 
him,  twisted  and  broken  him.  His  face  was  thin  and 
weary.  One  eye  seemed  to  sag  a  little  in  its  socket;  both 
eyes  were  luminous  and  large-pupilled,  like  those  of  a  con- 
firmed alcoholic.  Furrows  of  exhaustion  quivered  in  his 
cheeks.  Tiny  vertical  veins  stood  out  over  his  temples. 
His  quondam  effervescence  had  wholly  deserted  him;  his 
expression  was  lifeless,  dead. 

They  stood  for  a  moment  taking  stock  of  each  other: 
Ellwood  endeavoring  to  re-capture  some  of  his  old  buoy- 
ancy; Lee,  with  his  new  self-important  briskness,  restrain- 
ing his  disapproval  as  best  he  could. 

"Sit  down  a  moment,  won't  you?"  Ellwood  suggested. 


240  THE  GROPER 

For  the  first  time,  Lee  took  note  of  the  woman  at  the 
table. 

"May  I  present  Mr.  Hillquit,"  introduced  Ellwood.  "Mrs. 
Baynes." 

Lee  bowed  rather  stiffly.  His  impression  of  Mrs.  Baynes 
was  distinctly  unfavorable.  She  was  a  thin  woman  of 
about  twenty-five  or  thirty.  She  wore  a  black  veil  that 
partly  concealed  the  upper  part  of  her  face;  but  he  could 
see  that  her  eyes  were  flecked  with  the  marks  of  dissipation. 
The  flesh  of  her  face  appeared  flabby  underneath  its  coat- 
ing of  rouge.    She  suggested  ill-health,  disease. 

He  pleaded  another  engagement,  but  added:  "I'd  like 
to  have  a  talk  with  you  sometime  soon,  Ellwood." 

Lee  purposely  appointed  his  own  house  as  the  place  for 
the  meeting  that  took  place  two  nights  later.  He  wanted  to 
get  Ellwood  out  of  the  cafe  atmosphere,  and  then  put  forth 
a  final  effort  to  awaken  him  to  the  folly  of  his  ways. 

His  motives  were  purely  altruistic,  and  he  worked  him- 
self up  to  a  genuine  eloquence. 

"The  only  thing  for  you  to  do,"  he  expounded,  "is  to  cut 
clear  of  Mrs.  What's-her-name  and  all  creatures  like  her. 
They're  simply  dragging  you  down." 

For  the  first  time  that  evening,  Ellwood  exhibited  a  flicker 
of  interest. 

"Mrs.  Baynes?"  he  asked.  "That  reminds  me — I  was  go- 
ing to  get  your  advice  about  her." 

Annette  Baynes,  he  recounted,  was  a  divorced  woman 
he  had  met  a  few  months  back.  In  some  way,  she  chal- 
lenged Ellwood's  prowess  as  a  woman-hunter.  Her  conquest, 
however,  had  not  proved  especially  difficult  for  him,  and  he 
confessed  that  he  was  beginning  to  be  bored.  In  fact,  he 
had  planned  breaking  off  with  her  the  very  night  that  Lee 
encountered  them. 

"Just  before  you  came  along,"  went  on  Ellwood  casually, 


THE  GROPER  241] 

"Annette  told  me  the  cheerful  news  that  I  was  soon  to  be- 
come a  father." 

"An  absolute  lie,  probably!"  broke  in  Lee. 

Ellwood  shook  his  head.  "That  was  my  first  hunch,  of 
course.  But  there's  no  doubt  about  it — I  made  sure  of  that. 
Understand — she  didn't  threaten  me.  She  wasn't  nasty 
about  it.  She  just  told  me.  That's  why  I  feel  it's  up  to 
me." 

"There  are  ways "  began  Lee. 

"No,"  said  the  young  physician.  "In  the  first  place,  she 
wouldn't  consent  to  any  funny  business,  and  in  the  second 
place,  I  wouldn't  ask  her  to."  He  was  silent  a  moment. 
"The  more  I  think  about  it,"  he  added,  "the  more  I  be- 
lieve I'll  kick  through." 

"What  do  you  mean — marry  her?"  Lee  exclaimed  in  a 
horrified  voice. 

Ellwood  nodded. 

"Marry  a  woman  like  thatl  Why,  it's  simply  f rightful I" 
Lee  started  to  pace  the  room  in  high  excitement.  "How 
do  you  know  you're  the  one  who's  responsible,  anyway?" 

"I  don't,"  said  Ellwood  with  an  odd  smile.  "She  says 
there's  no  one  else,  and  I'm  inclined  to  believe  her.  Any- 
way, it's  up  to  me,  and  I'm  not  going  to  be  a  poor  sport." 

"I  don't  see  it  that  way  for  a  minute!"  disagreed  Lee. 
"You  weren't  any  more  to  blame  than  she,  were  you?  She 
isn't  any  young  girl,  you  know.  Don't  be  Quixotic.  Just 
think  of  what  it  will  mean  to  be  tied  up  to  a  woman  like 
that  for  the  rest  of  your  life.  Marriage  is  enough  of  a 
gamble,  God  knows,  even  with  a  good  woman;  but  a  mar- 
riage like  this  will  be  sure  Hell,  that's  all.  You'll  be  ruined 
professionally  and  socially.    Your  neighbors  won't  call." 

But  Ellwood  continued  shaking  his  head,  unconvinced. 

"I'm  not  so  sure.    Women  are  all  about  the  same,  once  you 

get  rid  of  your  illusions.  They  may  wear  different  clothes  and 

.different  manners,  but  you  don't  marry  clothes  and  man- 


242  THE  GROPER 

ners.  No,  Lee,  I  haven't  any  foolish  notions  about  An- 
nette's being  a  spotless  lamb;  but  I  really  think  I  have  as 
good  a  chance  of  working  out  a  decent  relationship  with  her 
as  with  any  of  your  so-called  society  girls.  I  don't  kid 
myself  that  Annette  and  I  will  spend  much  time  riding 
through  purple  clouds,  but  anyway  we  won't  suffer  from  dis- 
illusionment about  each  other."  Again  his  odd  smile.  "Be- 
sides, you  know,  I  really  do  want  some  children." 

An  unmistakable  dignity  had  come  into  Ellwood's  voice 
and  manner.    Lee  abruptly  fell  silent 

Only  a  day  or  so  later  he  heard  from  Vera.  She  tele- 
phoned him  at  the  factory  and  asked  him  if  he  could  come 
to  see  her.  He  promised  to  stop  on  his  way  home  that 
night. 

He  had  not  seen  her  since  their  one  tragic  meeting  three 
years  before.  He  had  often  found  himself  wondering  about 
her.  Memories  of  her  seemed  to  spring  into  his  mind  on 
the  smallest  provocation — a  voice,  a  mannerism,  a  face  that 
even  remotely  resembled  hers.  Such  recollections  he  had 
always  put  aside  sternly.  He  still  cherished  the  grievance 
of  her  disloyalty  to  him.  Yet  her  memory  had  persisted, 
subtly,  impalpably. 

He  found  her  in  a  cheaper  neighborhood  than  before. 
A  shiver  of  aversion  came  over  him  as  he  mounted  the  dark 
and  stuffy  stairs  and  made  his  way  back  to  the  last  door 
in  the  hall-way.  Nor  did  his  aversion  lessen  when  he  caught 
Bight  of  Vera.  She  proved  to  be  considerably  stouter,  and 
there  was  a  look  of  dumb  misery  in  her  eyes.  Almost  at 
once  she  told  him  that  she  was  pregnant. 

Lee  sat  down  in  a  rocking  chair,  hat  in  hand,  and  lis- 
tened to  the  details  of  the  sordid  pitiful  story  she  unfolded. 
A  year  after  she  came  to  the  city,  her  husband  had  learned 
her  address  and  thenceforth  had  allowed  her  no  respite. 
He  made  it  clear  that  he  intended  to  force  her  to  return 
to  Record  and  live  with  him.    Vera  had  received  abusive, 


THE  GROPER  243 

threatening  letters  from  him  each  week.  Milo's  lawyer — ■ 
and  even  the  prosecuting  attorney  of  the  county,  a  political 
crony  of  the  elder  Higginson — had  joined  in  trying  to 
frighten  her  into  submission. 

"But  I  didn't  think  there  was  any  law  that  could  make 
me  live  with  him,"  Vera  said,  "and  I  never  paid  any  at- 
tention to  their  letters."  She  spoke  quietly,  with  a  dull 
impassivity. 

When  letters  failed  of  their  mark,  Milo  at  length  began 
coming  to  Detroit.  "I  caught  sight  of  him  once  or  twice, 
slinking  along  behind  me  on  my  way  home  from  the  the- 
atre at  night.  My  landlady  said  some  man  was  calling 
up  the  house  while  I  was  away  and  making  vague  threats. 
Several  times  I  could  have  sworn  he  was  in  the  theatre." 

Lee's  aloof  distaste  began  to  melt  away.  "Why  didn't  you 
let  me  know?"  he  asked.  "I  could  have  scared  the  life  out 
of  him." 

"I  didn't  want  to  drag  you  into  the  mess,"  she  said. 
"Besides  I've  never  been  afraid  of  men — Milo,  least  of  all. 
He  hasn't  any  real  courage." 

Then  came  the  unexpected  disaster.  One  night,  about 
six  months  before,  she  had  found  him  waiting  for  her  in 
her  room.  "Even  then  I  wasn't  at  all  frightened,  until  he 
came  close  to  me  and  I  smelled  the  whisky  he'd  bolstered 
himself  up  with.  He  locked  the  door  and  told  me  it  was 
my  last  chance  to  go  back  to  Record  with  him.  Then  he 
pulled  out  a  revolver  and  asked  me  what  my  answer  was. 
I  told  him  no." 

It  seemed  incredible  to  Lee  that  he  was  sitting  in  this 
almost  squalid  back  bedroom,  listening  with  outward  calm 
to  Vera's  listless  recital.  He  gave  a  slight  start,  as  if  to 
assure  himself  of  the  reality  of  the  thing. 

Vera  went  on.  "He  said  I  still  belonged  to  him  and  he 
intended  to  have  his  legal  rights,  either  in  Record  or  in 


244  THE  GROPER 

Detroit,  he  didn't  care  so  much  which.  Even  then  I  didn't 
realise  what  he  meant — till  he  took  me  by  the  throat." 

She  had  fought  back  hard,  but  Milo  had  finally  over- 
powered her — crushed  her  into  insensibility.  "When  I 
finally  came  to,  he'd  gone — and  the  landlady  was  standing 
by  the  bed,  telling  me  to  get  out  of  the  house  quick — she 
didn't  want  any  such  women  around  her  place." 

When  she  learned  the  truth  about  her  condition,  she  had 
been  terror-stricken  for  a  time.  "I  felt  almost  like  giving 
up,"  she  said.  Until  a  week  ago,  she  had  been  able  to 
support  herself  by  playing  at  the  "movie";  but  now  her 
plight  was  becoming  obvious.  She  hated  to  appear  on  the 
street.    Her  new  landlady  was  openly  suspicious. 

Lee  suddenly  stood  up.  It  seemed  more  than  he  could 
bear. 

"Does  any  one  know?"  he  asked.    "Your  family?" 

"Not  a  soul — except  the  doctor.  As  for  my  father  and 
mother — well,  I'm  as  good  as  dead  to  them." 

Subsequent  messages  from  Milo  had  threatened  further 
treatment  of  the  same  sort  unless  she  returned  to  him.  She 
showed  Lee  a  letter  she  had  just  received,  bearing  the  ulti- 
matum that  he  would  call  on  her  the  following  day,  and  if 
she  had  not  changed  her  mind,  would  swear  out  a  warrant 
for  her  arrest.  "I'll  break  your  damn  back  for  you  yet, 
old  gurl,"  the  letter  concluded. 

"You  see,"  said  Vera  with  a  pathetic  gesture  of  weakness. 
"I  realise  I  can't  stand  alone  much  longer,  and  you're  the 
only  one  I  can  turn  to.  I  have  almost  no  money  left,  and 
I  won't  be  able  to  earn  any  more  from  now  on." 

Lee  turned  toward  the  door  with  set  jaws.  "You  need 
have  no  further  worry,"  he  assured  her,  "either  about  Milo 
or  about  money." 

"Thank  you,"  she  said — and  for  a  moment  he  thought  she 
was  going  to  cry.  But  she  suddenly  recovered  herself. 
"Understand,  Lee — I  won't  take  a  cent  from  you.    But  he's 


THE  GROPER  245 

responsible  for  my  not  being  able  to  work — he's  the  one  who 
must  do  something." 

Lee  took  his  leave,  oscillating  between  intense  irritation 
at  the  disagreeable  duty  he  had  undertaken,  and  an  odd, 
vague  sense  of  affectionate  comradeship  with  Vera.  Strange, 
the  force  of  this  obscure  tie  between  them,  woven  out  of 
their  old  love  for  one  another — as  if  the  close  and  precious 
communion  of  Chatham  days  still  survived  the  disintegrat- 
ing and  disillusioning  years  that  had  intervened.  He  could 
not  but  be  conscious  of  a  trust  neglected.  He  ought  to  have 
looked  after  Vera — helped  her.  Profound  pity  and  sympa- 
thy for  her  suffused  him. 

Instead  of  going  home,  he  drove  to  one  of  his  downtown 
clubs.  There  he  was  fortunate  enough  to  find  his  very  good 
friend,  the  Police  Commissioner,  alone  at  dinner — with  the 
result  that  Milo  Higginson,  arriving  at  the  Michigan  Cen- 
tral station  that  night,  was  promptly  picked  up  by  two 
very  intelligent  and  discreet  detectives  and  made  to  lan- 
guish till  morning  in  a  cell  at  headquarters. 

There  was  very  little  pride  or  fight  left  in  the  son  of 
Record's  chief  banker  the  next  day  when  he  was  brought 
into  the  Commissioner's  office  and  left  alone  with  Lee.  Their 
conference  was  neither  long  nor  inconclusive.  Milo  promptly 
secured  three  hundred  dollars  by  telegraph  and  deposited 
it  with  Lee,  as  a  partial  payment  of  Vera's  medical  and 
hospital  expenses.  Verbally  he  agreed,  under  pain  of  a 
criminal  prosecution  for  his  assault,  to  send  her  twenty 
dollars  a  week  after  the  baby's  birth,  and  to  interpose  no 
objection  to  her  suit  for  divorce. 

This  done,  Milo — a  very  peculiar  discoloration  begin- 
ning to  manifest  itself  around  his  left  eye — was  escorted 
back  to  the  railway  station  and  placed  aboard  an  outgoing 
train  by  the  same  two  detectives. 

Vera  surprised  Lee  by  refusing  absolutely  to  take  the 
agreed  alimony. 


246  THE  GROPER 

"How  can  I  when  I  loathe  him  so?"  she  demanded.  "All 
I  want  from  him  is  what  I'm  justly  entitled  to:  enough 
money  to  see  me  through  the  baby's  birth.  I'll  take  his 
three  hundred  dollars.  After  that  I'll  ask  favors  of  no 
one.  I  can  support  both  the  baby  and  myself."  She  repaid 
Lee  for  all  his  trouble  with  her  smile  of  new  courage.  "I'm 
going  to  make  something  of  myself  yet,  Lee — and  I'm  going 
to  make  something  of  that  baby,  too." 

He  looked  slightly  troubled.  "But — are  you  sure  it's 
wise  for  you  to  keep  it?"  he  asked. 

Vera   had   been   strangely   apathetic   about   the   whole 
wretched  business;  but  now  she  surveyed  Lee  fiercely. 
•   "The  baby?    Why,  of  course  I'm  going  to  keep  it  I    I'd 
like  to  see  anybody  take  it  away  from  me!" 


vn 

THE  first  season  of  the  Hillquit  Motor  Company  was 
not  an  undiluted  success. 
The  trouble  lay  in  the  manufacturing  end.  In- 
stead of  turning  out  ten  thousand  cars,  Eaton  completed 
a  scant  five  thousand.  Persistent  trouble  developed  in  the 
car's  rear  axle,  and  it  became  necessary  to  take  a  great 
many  machines  back  and  make  costly  adjustments  on 
others.  Eaton,  however,  pronounced  these  difficulties  a  part 
of  the  first  year's  experience  of  every  automobile  company, 
and  he  predicted  a  phenomenal  success  for  the  second  sea- 
son beginning  August  1st,  1915. 

Indeed,  prospects  were  highly  promising.  Lee's  distinc- 
tive advertising  campaign  had  created  a  real  demand  for 
the  "Hillquit."  The  sales  agents  eagerly  contracted  for 
twenty  thousand  of  the  new  cars.  Eaton  announced  that 
he  had  entirely  remedied  the  rear  axle  trouble  and  improved 
the  design  materially. 

The  corporation  had  lost  very  little  money  up  to  date; 
but  as  spring  came  on  and  additional  capital  was  required, 
Lee  found  it  necessary  to  apply  to  the  bank  for  an  extension 
of  credit  from  one  hundred  thousand  dollars  to  two  hundred 
and  fifty  thousand. 

The  bank  directors  proved  unenthusiastic.  "We're  load- 
ed up  on  motor  loans,"  the  vice-president  reported  to  Lee. 
"So  are  all  the  other  banks  in  town." 

The  final  outcome  was  that  the  bank  agreed  to  allow  the 
new  credit  only  upon  Lee's  personal  endorsement  of  the 
notes. 

Lee  called  a  meeting  of  the  board  of  directors  of  the 
Hillquit  Company,  and  laid  the  situation  before  them. 

247 


248  THE  GROPER 

"We  might  increase  the  capitalisation  and  sell  more 
stock,"  suggested  Will  Eaton.  "But  that  means  splitting 
future  profits  with  more  people.  I  really  don't  think  you'd 
be  running  any  risk  at  all  in  endorsing  the  notes.  By  the! 
time  they  fall  due,  we'll  have  more  money  than  we  know 
how  to  use.  If  my  endorsement  were  worth  anything  to 
the  bank,  I'd  be  glad  to  give  it." 

"How  about  you?"  Lee  asked  Fred  Badger.  "Are  you 
willing  to  go  on  this  paper  with  me?" 

"I'd  be  glad  to,  if  my  endorsement  had  any  value,"  Fred 
assured  him.  "Unfortunately,  I'm  sewed  up  in  several 
things  right  now  that  take  every  penny  I  can  earn." 

"I  don't  feel  like  taking  the  risk  all  alone,"  protested 
Lee.  "I  suppose  the  bank  would  really  look  to  me  if  the 
notes  weren't  paid,  but  all  the  same,  I'd  like  to  have  you 
fellows  sign  too." 

Eaton  and  Fred  finally  agreed  to  this;  but  on  April  first, 
the  day  appointed  for  negotiating  the  loan,  Fred  Badger 
telegraphed  from  Chicago  that  he  had  been  unexpectedly 
called  out  of  town,  but  would  return  the  next  day.  Lee 
and  Eaton  endorsed  the  new  notes;  and  upon  Fred's  re- 
appearance, Lee  insisted  that  he  also  sign.  After  many 
delays,  Fred  added  his  name  as  an  endorser. 

Lee  felt  some  uneasiness  about  the  situation.  In  addition 
to  his  initial  investment  of  three  hundred  and  fifty  thou- 
sand, he  was  now  liable  on  the  corporation's  notes,  due 
October  first,  in  the  amount  of  one  hundred  and  fifty  thou- 
sand dollars.  If  anything  happened  to  the  company,  Lee's 
entire  fortune  would  be  wip?d  out. 

Although  his  misgivings  were  slight,  he  began  to  retrench 
in  his  personal  expenditures.  A  year  before,  he  had  pur- 
chased eighty  acres  of  land  in  the  Bloomfield  Hills  section, 
twenty  miles  north  of  the  city;  and  he  had  already  secured 
architect's  plans  for  a  country  house  that  would  cost  him 
about  one  hundred  and  fifty  thousand  dollars.    He  deter- 


THE  GROPER  249 

mined  to  delay  the  actual  construction  of  the  house  for  the 
immediate  present. 

One  June  morning  Lee  found  in  his  personal  mail  an 
engraved  announcement  that  Eleanor  B.  Badger  had  opened 
a  landscape  architect's  office  on  the  tenth  floor  of  a  down- 
town building. 

He  sat  staring  at  the  card  a  moment,  slightly  inquisitive; 
then  had  his  secretary  telephone  Eleanor. 

"Yes,"  came  a  woman's  voice. 

"This  is  Lee  Hillquit,  and  I've  just  gotten  your  announce- 
ment. Do  you  mean  to  say  you're  designing  gardens  and 
all  that  sort  of  thing  professionally?" 

"Goodness,  yes!"  confirmed  Eleanor.  "I've  been  at  the 
game  almost  two  years  now.  By  the  way,  I  understand 
you  are  going  to  build  a  country  house  soon." 

He  explained  that  his  plans  were  indefinite.  "I  may  be- 
gin this  summer,  and  I  may  not.  Perhaps  I  shall  want  to 
get  your  advice." 

"Very  glad  to  give  it,"  said  Eleanor  and  rang  off. 

Lee  considered  it  odd  that  Fred  had  not  spoken  of  his 
sister's  new  vocation.  Now  that  he  thought  of  it,  he  hadn't 
heard  Fred  mention  Eleanor's  name  for  many  months. 

The  next  time  he  happened  to  be  in  that  particular 
building,  he  made  a  point  of  going  to  Eleanor's  office. 

He  found  that  she  occupied  an  impressive  suite,  in  com- 
pany with  a  well-known  architect.  He  gave  his  name  to  the 
stenographer,  and  presently  was  ushered  into  Eleanor's  pri- 
vate office.  She  was  sitting  at  a  flat-top  desk,  littered  with 
papers  and  blue-prints;  but  as  he  entered,  she  stood  up  and 
held  out  her  hand. 

"How  do  you  do,  Mr.  Hillquit,"  she  greeted.  "I'm  very 
glad  to  see  you  again." 

Her  expression — that  was  what  had  so  altered  since  he 
had  last  seen  her.  Her  actual  features,  under  their  coat  of 
early  tan,  were  much  the  same — the  same  direct  blue  eyes 


250 


THE  GROPER 


with  the  clear  whites;  the  same  straight  nose,  coming  out 
from  her  forehead  at  precisely  the  proper  angle;  the  same 
sane  mouth,  a  little  too  wide,  perhaps.  Her  tailored  suit 
was  smart  and  fitted  her  beautifully.  But  it  was  the  change 
in  her  expression  that  held  his  attention.  The  old  cynical, 
stifled  look  had  vanished.  Here  manifestly  was  a  very  in- 
dependent young  woman,  entirely  free  from  morbid  self- 
consciousness — with  an  immense  interest  in  the  work  she 
was  doing.    Her  self-confidence  made  him  think  of  Fred. 

She  began  talking  business  at  once.  She  had  taken  a 
number  of  art  courses  in  college,  she  explained;  and  shortly 
after  her  last  talk  with  Lee,  she  had  become  fired  with  an 
ambition  to  become  a  landscape  architect.  She  had  taken 
a  two  years7  course  in  an  eastern  university  and  served  an 
apprenticeship  in  a  Detroit  architect's  office.  She  showed 
him  photographs  of  the  work  she  had  done  for  her  clients, 
and  elicited  the  plans  for  his  country  estate.  He  asked 
her  one  or  two  personal  questions  about  herself,  but  she  re- 
turned to  professional  matters  so  tactfully  that  he  did  not 
realise,  till  he  stood  up  to  go,  that  he  had  not  at  all  suc- 
ceeded in  satisfying  the  faint  prick  of  curiosity  that  had 
brought  him  to  her  office. 

"It's  odd  I've  heard  your  brother  say  nothing  about  your 
professional  work,"  he  hazarded. 

"Fred?"  She  raised  her  shoulders  indifferently.  "That's 
not  so  surprising.  He's  not  very  proud  of  my  professional 
career — keeps  asking  me  to  give  it  up,  stay  home  and  be  a 
'nice  girl'  again.  But  now  that  I've  started  to  make  a  little 
money,  he's  beginning  to  soften  a  bit,  I  can  see." 

"And  do  you  really  enjoy  being  a  working  girl  as  much 
as  you  expected?"  pursued  Lee  quizzically. 

She  smiled  back  at  him  triumphantly.  "More.  I'd  sell 
my  soul  any  day  for  real  professional  success.  The  only 
trouble  is  that  most  Detroit  people  won't  take  a  woman's 
professional  work  seriously.    You've  no  idea  the  prejudice 


THE  GROPER  25U 

I've  had  to  go  up  against."  She  recovered  her  impersonal 
attitude  abruptly.  "But  this  isn't  paying  office  rent,  is  it?" 
She  glanced  at  her  wrist-watch.  "You'll  excuse  me  now," 
she  said  briskly.  "I  have  a  planting  job  at  Grosse  Pointe 
that  simply  must  be  finished  to-day.  But  I'm  awfully  in- 
terested in  your  plans,  and  I  think  something  stunning 
could  be  worked  out." 

Lee  walked  with  her  to  the  elevator.  "Can't  I  give  you 
a  lift  out  to  the  Pointe?"  he  heard  himself  asking. 

"No,  thanks.  I  have  a  little  Durham  runabout,"  she 
explained.  "I  did  drive  a  Hillquit,"  she  added  with  a  laugh, 
"but  I  had  so  much  trouble  with  it,  I  finally  had  to  trade 
it  in  for  a  car  I  could  depend  on." 

He  made  some  light  reply,  and  they  parted  at  the  en- 
trance to  the  building.  He  saw  her  step  lithely  into  her  car, 
start  the  motor  and  drive  off.  It  was  a  new  experience  for 
him  to  be  handled  in  such  cavalier  fashion,  and  he  sought 
out  his  own  limousine,  at  once  puzzled  and  interested  by 
her  off-hand  manner  with  him. 


vm 

PERHAPS  it  was  the  humid  warmth  of  the  June  days — 
or  possibly,  his  worry  over  the  affairs  of  the  Hillquit 
Motor  Company.  Again,  the  serene  and  self-assured 
spirit  that  he  had  encountered  in  Eleanor  Badger  may  have 
had  something  to  do  with  it. 

At  any  rate,  Lee  found  himself  in  the  grip  of  a  new  rest- 
lessness. His  work  at  the  factory  seemed  mere  drudgery, 
shot  through  with  multiplying  anxieties.  He  felt  tired,  de- 
pressed. He  could  get  no  lift  from  the  sense  of  his  pros- 
perity and  power.     Even  his  advertising  work  palled. 

But  these  vague  stirrings  did  not  focus  until  he  picked  up 
his  newspaper  one  morning  and  read  of  the  death  of  Michael 
Curran. 

The  old  department-store  magnate  had  last  been  seen 
three  evenings  before  on  a  Belle  Isle  ferry  boat.  His  fail- 
ure to  reappear  at  his  residence  within  the  next  thirty-six 
hours  found  its  way  into  the  newspapers.  Then  a  deck- 
hand on  the  ferry  boat  remembered  having  heard  a  slight 
splash  in  the  water,  just  after  the  boat  left  the  island  dock 
on  its  last  trip.  That  afternoon,  the  harbor  master  began 
to  drag  the  river  bottom,  and  late  at  night,  brought  up 
Michael  Curran's  body  a  few  rods  below  the  spot  identified 
by  the  deck-hand. 

The  morning  paper  printed  a  picture  and  a  long  obituary. 
The  last  paragraphs  read: 

Mr.  Curran's  death  was  presumably  accidental.  He  wa9 
in  the  best  of  health,  and  had  no  financial  worries.  How 
he  could  have  fallen  overboard  without  being  seen  by  some 
one  is  a  mystery. 

252 


THE  GROPER  253 

Mr.  Curran's  estate  is  variously  estimated  at  from  one  to 
five  millions. 

Coroner  Phillips  said  there  would  be  no  inquest. 

As  Lee  read  the  details,  there  arose  in  his  mind  a  picture 
of  the  old  Irishman  as  he  last  remembered  him — wandering 
like  a  lost  wraith  about  the  store  where  he  had  once  held 
undisputed  sway.    He  dropped  in  to  see  Howard  Doman. 

"Poor  old  Mike!"  said  the  merchandise  manager.  "I've 
felt  mighty  sorry  for  him  lately.  He  just  didn't  have  any 
more  function  in  life.  He  couldn't  run  the  business  and  he 
was  too  old  for  women.  I've  foreseen  his  suicide  for  the  last 
month." 

"Suicide!"  Lee  interjected. 

Doman  nodded.  "Not  the  faintest  doubt.  A  boy  on  the 
boat  saw  him  climbing  over  the  railing  on  the  lower  deck. 
Mike's  eyes  were  staring,  and  the  kid  was  so  scared  he  didn't 
say  anything  about  it  till  to-day.  Of  course,  we  kept  it  out 
of  the  papers." 

Lee  went  away,  more  depressed  than  ever. 

"Money  and  women."  He  recalled  Doman's  apt  charac- 
terisation. That  epitomised  Curran's  whole  life — and  his 
desolate  end.  Lee  thought  of  the  man,  with  all  his  ability, 
his  flashes  of  insight,  his  constructive  imagination,  his  force 
and  power,  his  sense  of  humor. 

Money  and  women — nothing  else.  No  fine  purpose,  no 
gleam  of  unselfishness,  no  flow  of  spirituality. 

Money  and  women.  Lee  wondered  if  the  phrase  did  not 
sum  up  his  own  life  thus  far.  True,  he  was  through  with 
women,  but  he  lived  and  breathed  for  money  and  its  by- 
products. 

He  took  a  searching  look  into  the  big  mirror  in  his  office. 
It  was  the  first  time  he  had  really  taken  stock  of  himself 
in  years.  His  eye  skipped  negligently  over  the  details  of 
his  appearance:  the  trim  lines  of  his  suit,  artfully  conceal- 
ing the  incipient  stoutness  of  his  waist-line;  the  expensive 


254 


THE  GROPER 


shirt  and  cravat;  the  lines  of  his  face,  the  furrows  in  his 
forehead,  the  few  grey  hairs  on  his  temples.  His  eyes  were 
tired,  but  not  dissipated  looking.  Business  cares  and  anxie- 
ties accounted  for  that  woeful  sagging  in  the  corners  of  his 
mouth.  But  the  crying  unhappiness  of  his  whole  expression 
— that  was  what  caught  him  up  short. 

What  did  it  all  mean?  He  had  no  apparent  reason  to  be 
unhappy.  He  was  living  a  virtuous,  industrious  life;  he  was 
successful,  influential — highly  regarded  by  the  whole  city. 

That  afternoon,  he  left  his  limousine  at  Grand  Circus 
Park  a  second  time,  and  started  down  Woodward  avenue. 

Nearly  every  man  and  woman  he  passed  bore  his  own 
jaded,  thwarted  expresbion.  A  sea  of  sad  faces.  Only  a 
few  of  the  children  looked  happy. 

He  took  note  of  the  people  in  limousines — people  of 
wealth  and  position,  many  of  whom  he  knew.  Their  faces 
had  never  before  seemed  so  common,  so  unimaginative — 
most  of  all,  so  sombre.  Stupid,  over-fed  people,  most  of 
them,  with  greedy  bodies  but  ungreedy  minds:  they  pos- 
sessed everything  in  life  that  money  could  buy;  they  flung 
their  wealth  in  the  faces  of  the  envious,  gaping  pedestrians; 
yet  their  dull  visages  showed  no  glimmer  of  joyousness. 
Money  and  women,  those  were  the  false  illusions  that  had 
spread  the  mark  of  chagrin  over  all  these  faces.  Money, 
anyway.  How  they  all  schemed  and  laid  traps  for  it! 
Money!  That  was  the  only  standard  of  success.  Money! 
That  was  the  magic  talisman  that  would  bring  perfect  hap- 
piness! Money!  The  hundreds  who  failed  in  its  pursuit 
were  wholly  wretched;  yet  the  few  who  achieved  its  quest 
looked  even  more  cheated  than  those  who  failed. 

Lee  took  a  street  car  home,  and  sat  down  in  his  lux- 
uriously furnished  library.    A  dull  despair  pervaded  him. 

Perhaps  those  morbid  German  philosophers  were  right 
after  all ;  and  the  only  real  art  of  living  consisted  of  learning 
to  exist  without  happiness. 


PART  FOUR 


AUGUST  first,  1915— the  beginning  of  the  1916  auto- 
mobile season — arrived  in  due  time.  Will  Eaton  had 
announced  a  daily  output  of  one  hundred  cars  for 
the  new  season,  but  when  the  five  o'clock  whistle  blew,  not 
a  single  automobile  was  ready  for  shipment.  A  week,  then 
a  full  month  went  by  before  Lee  woke  up  to  the  fact  that 
something  was  seriously  wrong. 

It  was  not  alone  the  fact  that  the  entire  proposed  output 
— twenty  thousand  cars — had  been  contracted  for,  and  that 
the  efficient  sales  representatives  he  had  so  carefully  picked 
were  sending  in  sharp  telegrams  of  inquiry  every  day. 
Rather,  it  was  the  uncertainty  as  to  when  production  would 
actually  begin  that  brought  new  lines  of  worry  to  his  face. 

The  chief  trouble,  Eaton  explained,  was  delay  in  the  re- 
ceipt of  certain  parts.  The  Hillquit  was  still  an  assembled 
car — that  is,  the  company  contracted  for  most  of  the  parts 
of  the  automobile,  and  merely  put  them  together  in  the 
Detroit  factory.  The  gasoline  engine,  the  steering  wheel, 
the  axles  and  certain  other  parts  came  from  Detroit  con- 
cerns; the  remaining  parts  from  other  cities. 

When  Lee  really  started  investigating,  he  soon  found  that 
only  one-half  of  the  necessary  parts  had  arrived  at  the  plant. 
Eaton  excused  his  failure  to  inform  Lee  earlier  by  saying 
that  he  had  been  expecting  all  the  lacking  parts  to  appear 
every  day. 

"But  damn  it,  Eaton!"  Lee  burst  out.    "WeVe  got  to 

255 


256  THE  GROPER 

get  started  right  away — don't  you  see?  Here  it  is  Septem- 
ber already!  Every  day  we're  receiving  bills  for  the  parts 
that  are  here,  and  we  won't  have  a  cent  to  pay  them  with, 
till  we  begin  shipping  cars." 

Eaton  shrugged  his  shoulders  in  an  offended  way.  "I'm 
sure  I've  done  everything  possible  to  get  action,"  he  said. 
"Anyway,  that  end  of  the  business  is  up  to  you  and  Fred 
Badger.  My  part  of  the  car,  the  design,  is  beyond  criti- 
cism." 

Fred  Badger  had  not  been  at  the  plant  for  two  days, 
Lee  discovered. 

He  sent  hurriedly  for  the  contracts  that  covered  the  miss- 
ing automobile  parts.  Without  exception,  they  provided 
that  deliveries  to  the  Hillquit  Company  should  begin  prior 
to  August  first. 

He  telephoned  to  the  two  Detroit  concerns  that  were  on 
the  delinquent  list. 

"We're  sorry,  Mr.  Hillquit,"  they  both  professed.  "But 
we've  been  delayed  by  the  people  who  furnish  us  material. 
Your  order  is  going  through  now  all  right.  It's  only  a  mat- 
ter of  a  few  days  more." 

"I  notice  you  didn't  seem  to  have  any  difficulty  filling  the 
Durham  order  on  time,"  Lee  told  the  vice-president  of  the 
company  that  supplied  self-starters. 

"Well,  that's  a  little  different  proposition,  Mr.  Hillquit," 
reasoned  the  vice-president.  "We  took  on  the  Durham  peo- 
ple long  before  we  did  you." 

"That  doesn't  make  the  slightest  difference!"  Lee  vocif- 
erated. "Now  I  want  that  stuff  out  right  away,  or  we'll  can- 
cel our  contract  with  you." 

The  vice-president  refused  to  be  ruffled.  "All  right.  Sup- 
pose we  do  cancel.  It  would  relieve  a  lot  of  the  congestion 
out  here." 

It  occurred  to  Lee  that  this  particular  starter  had  been 
especially  designed  to  fit  into  the  type  of  engine  used  in 


THE  GROPER  257 

the  Hillquit  car,  and  that  no  other  starter  would  prove 
adaptable  to  Eaton's  design. 

"You  think  you  have  us  where  you  want  us,"  he  accused 
the  vice-president.  "You  may  change  your  mind  if  we 
find  it  necessary  to  start  suit  against  you." 

But  Malcomson,  the  Hillquit  Company's  attorney,  gave 
him  small  satisfaction. 

"Of  course,  you  can  sue,"  he  vouchsafed,  "but  it  will  be 
a  year  before  the  case  is  tried.  And  naturally,  the  self- 
starter  people  will  throw  up  their  contract  with  you,  the 
minute  you  serve  them  with  process." 

"Do  you  mean  to  say  there's  no  way  of  compelling  those 
rough-necks  to  live  up  to  their  agreement?" 

The  lawyer  pursed  his  lips  quizzically.  "No  very  efficient 
way,  I'm  afraid.  If  you  had  come  to  me  before  you  signed 
these  contracts,  I  might  have  put  in  a  good  stiff  damages 
clause  or  something  else  that  would  have  done  the  trick. 
As  it  is,  your  best  chance  is  to  kid  them  along  into  sending 
you  the  stuff." 

Lee  was  at  his  wit's  ends.  He  could  evolve  no  solution 
of  the  grave  straits  that  confronted  the  company.  Worst 
of  all,  he  could  get  no  help  at  all  from  his  associates.  Fred 
Badger  could  never  be  located  when  he  was  most  wanted, 
and  the  Scion  of  "one  of  Boston's  best  families,  you  know," 
withdrew  more  and  more  into  his  shell  as  problems  multi- 
plied.   Lee  saw  financial  ruin  staring  him  in  the  face. 

Then,  quite  inexplicably,  things  unknotted  themselves. 
The  starters  arrived  and  other  parts  began  rolling  in.  By 
the  second  week  in  September,  every  missing  constituent 
was  on  hand,  except  the  specially  designed  carburetors — 
and  they  were  reported  en  route  from  Chicago. 

Lee  breathed  more  easily,  and  Eaton  thawed  out  percep- 
tibly. A  considerable  portion  of  the  season's  profits  had 
been  irretrievably  lost;  but  the  danger  of  downright  failure, 
seemed  happily  averted. 


A  WEEK  or  two  after  his  visit  to  Eleanor's  office,  Lee 
had  one  day  surprised  himself  by  inviting  her  to 
lunch.  She  puzzled  and  piqued  him,  this  young 
professional  woman,  with  her  measureless  self-sufficiency  and 
her  novel  "hands-off"  air.  Throughout  the  trying  summer 
months,  he  contrived  to  see  her  with  increasing  frequency. 
When  she  went  away  in  August  for  a  short  vacation,  he  was 
taken  aback  to  discover  how  definitely  he  missed  her  com- 
panionship. 

Just  why  he  had  come  to  depend  on  her,  ever  so  slightly, 
was  something  of  a  mystery.  He  was  not  at  all  attracted 
to  her  in  the  usual  ways.  Eleanor  possessed  not  the  faint- 
est vestige  of  what  is  called  feminine  alluringness.  Certain 
things  about  her,  indeed,  he  positively  disliked:  her  indif- 
ference, for  example,  and  her  pains  to  make  him  realise 
that  their  friendship  must  always  remain  impersonal.  An- 
other somewhat  nettling  circumstance  was  Eleanor's  prone- 
ness  to  spend  half  of  their  time  together  in  a  discussion  of 
landscape  plans  for  his  country  estate.  Hardly  a  luncheon 
passed  without  the  unostentatious  production  of  blue-print 
designs  and  photographs  of  Italian,  English  or  Japanese 
gardens. 

Lee,  to  tell  the  truth,  was  very  lonely  these  days — almost 
equally  restless.  He  was  thoroughly  disillusioned  with 
women,  he  felt — with  none  more  so  than  the  third-year-out 
"Society  girls"  who  flattered  and  coquetted  with  him.  Thus 
it  came  to  pass  that  after  a  wry  face  or  two  over  Eleanor's 
impersonal  quality,  Lee  began  to  find  this  very  trait  the 
rarest  and  most  appealing  thing  about  her.    It  was  very 

258 


THE  GROPER  259 

restful,  and  a  great  relief,  to  discover  a  young  woman  to 
prove  the  exception  to  his  firm  conclusion  that  all  be-skirted 
persons  were  innately  personal;  to  encounter  a  charming 
companion  with  whom  he  could  forget  the  crushing  perplex- 
ities of  business,  without  the  fear  of  Sex,  lurking  somewhere 
about,  ready  to  pounce  out  and  spoil  everything. 

For  Eleanor  could  be  a  charming  companion.  Hers  was 
a  mental  sparkle  that  proved  unfailingly  diverting.  She 
possessed  brains  without  being  at  all  ponderous.  Giving  her 
mind  a  novel,  interesting  idea  to  play  with  was  like  drop- 
ping a  lighted  match  into  tinder.  She  could  become  as 
excited  over  a  Whistler  Nocturne  or  a  piece  of  irridescent 
pottery  as  could  most  girls  of  Lee's  acquaintance  over  the 
most  thrilling  of  love  affairs  or  the  newest  of  gowns.  At 
times,  Lee  was  not  above  starting  arguments  with  her  for 
no  other  purpose  than  to  watch  her  blue  eyes  enkindle. 

She  was  a  new  type  of  woman  to  him;  and  that  of  course 
served  to  heighten  her  attractiveness.  He  could  not  place 
her.  When  he  thought  of  professional  women,  the  picture 
of  a  mannish,  ungraceful  species  rose  before  his  eyes.  He 
had  come  upon  a  few  such,  and  he  remembered  with  aver- 
sion their  slouchy  suits,  their  "sensible"  shoes  and  dowdy 
hats.  Eleanor  was  every  whit  as  impersonal  as  these  others; 
she  yielded  an  exclusive  devotion  to  her  work.  But  she  had 
retained  her  pride  of  dress  and  body.  Evidently  she  did 
not  hold  it  necessary  to  sacrifice  personal  charm  to  her 
strict  professional  attitude. 

Yes,  she  was  a  fine  frank  spirit  who  somehow  pulled  him 
up  a  little  out  of  the  depths.  Yet  it  was  perfectly  clear  to 
him  that  he  was  not  in  the  least  in  love  with  her — nor  she 
with  him,  thank  Heaven.  All  possibility  of  real  love  was 
over  for  him.  His  first  fine  affection  for  Vera  could  never 
be  duplicated,  he  felt.  More  than  once  he  caught  himself 
repressing  an  inward  groan  as  he  thought  of  his  earlier 
innocence  of  soul,  now  irrevocably  lost. 


260  THE  GROPER 

To  help  deaden  this  half-realised  need  of  his  for  a  great 
love,  Eleanor  and  her  friendship  seemed  to  serve  admirably. 
They  saw  each  other  with  increasing  frequency  after  her 
return  to  the  city.  A  year  ago,  he  would  have  pronounced 
such  a  relationship  between  a  man  and  woman  impossible. 
Never  did  either  of  them  trespass  in  spirit  beyond  the  pre- 
cincts of  mere  friendship.  Never  for  an  instant  did  Lee 
confuse  his  high  admiration  for  Eleanor  and  his  dependence 
on  her  comradeship  for  any  other  emotion — nor  did  Eleanor. 

So  secure  did  he  feel  on  this  score  that  he  could  not 
refrain  from  an  occasional  humorous  comment  on  their 
relationship. 

"I  really  believe  the  only  reason  you  lunch  with  me  is  to 
sell  me  an  expensive  garden,"  he  complained.  "That's  all 
you're  really  interested  in — now  isn't  it?" 

To  his  amused  surprise,  she  flushed  a  little,  then  managed 
a  really  charming  smile.  "Do  you  honestly  think  there  are 
so  many  congenial  men  in  Detroit?" 

A  week  or  two  later,  Lee  learned  with  some  disquietude 
that  his  friendship  with  Eleanor  had  become  the  subject  of 
considerable  gossip.  One  or  two  of  his  fellow  club-members 
chaffed  him  goodnaturedly  on  the  forthcoming  announce- 
ment of  his  engagement.  It  was  thoroughly  understood 
that  he  was  open  to  congratulations.  Other  similar  inti- 
mations reached  him  in  round-about  ways. 

Lee  received  this  raillery  with  light  denials,  outwardly. 
Inwardly  he  was  dismayed.  He  possessed  to  the  utmost  the 
usual  masculine  aversion  to  being  talked  about,  to  placing 
any  woman  in  an  equivocal  situation.  Yet  it  seemed  to  him 
the  height  of  absurdity  to  think  of  sacrificing  his  precious 
friendship  with  Eleanor.  He  felt  he  needed  it  now  more 
than  ever.  As  his  business  affairs  grew  more  desperate, 
he  counted  more  and  more  heavily  on  the  solace  of  her 
companionship. 

The  fairest  solution  was  to  submit  the  problem  to  Eleanor, 


THE  GROPER  261 

he  concluded.  "If  she  knows  about  it,  and  doesn't  mind,"  he 
reasoned,  "things  can  go  on  as  they  are.  We're  both  adults, 
and  it's  our  own  business." 

Three  nights  later,  at  their  favorite  corner  table  in  the 
city's  most  conservative  cafe,  matters  came  to  a  swift  and 
surprising  decision. 

Hardly  had  the  waiter  made  off  with  the  finger-bowls  and 
his  tip  when  Eleanor  contrived  to  bring  the  conversation 
to  the  subject  of  his  new  country  estate. 

"Now  see  here!"  protested  Lee  in  mock  indignation.  "I 
don't  want  to  see  a  blue-print  to-night.  You're  as  bad 
as  Brother  Fred.  There's  something  else  I  want  to  talk 
to  you  about." 

A  conscientious  'bus-boy  intervened  just  then  with  a 
match-stand.  Lee  glanced  out  of  the  cafe  window  at  the 
gloom-enshrouded  figures  of  hurrying  passers-by,  the  daz- 
zling headlights  of  automobiles,  the  slowly  moving  street 
cars — all  the  teeming  life  of  the  city.  He  was  painfully 
agitated  and  somewhat  depressed.  Never  before  had  he 
needed  Eleanor's  reassurance  so  acutely.  His  day  at  the 
factory  had  been  nerve-racking — the  trouble  over  the  self- 
starters  had  reached  a  climax;  and  this,  together  with  his 
unpleasant  task  of  relating  the  gossip  about  them,  had 
brought  him  close  to  the  breaking-point. 

He  met  Eleanor's  appraising  eye.  "As  a  matter  of  fact, 
I  doubt  very  much  if  I'll  ever  have  that  country  house. 
Things  at  the  factory  seem  to  be  going  to  smash  about  as 
fast  as  they  can.  I  shouldn't  wonder  if  I'd  be  glad  tq 
have  any  sort  of  a  shack  to  hang  my  hat  and  coat  in — 
let  alone  a  country  estate.  But  I  know  that  can  make  no 
difference " 

"No  country  estate  I" 

Eleanor  spoke  so  tensely  that  Lee  stared.    She  bit  her  lips. 

"What  is  it?"  he  importuned. 


Olbi  THE  GROPER 

"Nothing."  She  recovered  her  poise  abruptly.  "Except 
that  I  have  something  disagreeable  to  say  to  you." 

Lee's  stare  widened. 

"You  and  I  have  been  seeing  a  lot  of  each  other  lately, 
and — well,  we're  both  old  enough  to  know  what  propinquity 
usually  does  to  a  man  and  woman.  I  see  you  understand. 
Now  I  have  no  intention  of  falling  in  love  with  any  one, 
and  so  I  think  it's  wiser  for  us  to  stop  seeing  each  other." 
Lee  was  nonplussed  for  an  instant,  then  intensely  humili- 
ated. "You  needn't  have  worried  on  my  account,"  he  an- 
swered curtly.  "I  wanted  nothing  but  your  friendship. 
Naturally,  now  that  I  have  no  Italian  garden  to  plan " 

Eleanor  stood  up.    "You  can  think  that,  of  course." 

They  left  the  cafe  and  started  for  her  house.  Lee's  anger 
oozed  rapidly  away,  and  a  sense  of  abysmal  loneliness  over- 
spread him.  All  his  poignant  unhappiness  of  soul,  all  his 
business  anxieties  seemed  to  culminate.  He  was  filled  with 
remorse  over  his  ill-bred  insinuation  against  Eleanor.  Life 
had  been  endurable  of  late  solely  because  of  her,  and  now 
she  too  was  forsaking  him. 

Against  the  background  of  his  desolation,  moreover,  stood 
out  sharply  his  utter  perplexity.  Why  had  Eleanor  cut  him 
off  thus  without  warning  and  without  compassion?  It  was 
not  what  she  had  said  but  her  manner  in  saying  it. 

"I'm  sorry — and  I'm  puzzled,  Eleanor,"  he  said  as  they 
reached  her  door. 

"I  shouldn't  be."  She  rang  the  bell,  then  turned  impas- 
sively toward  him.  "What  you  said  about  me  wasn't  wholly 
untrue.  Some  abnormal  streak  in  me.  The  Badger  strain, 
I  guess.  Perhaps  I'm  not  so  different  from  my  dear  brother, 
after  all."  She  laughed  enigmatically.  "All  he  wants  in 
life  is  money;  all  I  care  about  is  success.  So,  you  see,  I'm 
hardly  worth  being  either  sorry  or  puzzled  about." 

The  maid  opened  the  door,  and  Eleanor  disappeared  with- 
out saying  good-night. 


m 

THE  arrival  of  the  missing  automobile  parts  was  so 
great  a  relief  to  Lee  that  he  permitted  two  full  weeks 
to  elapse  before  he  emerged  from  his  sense  of  se- 
curity to  the  realisation  that  the  carburetors,  in  the  design 
of  which  Eaton  took  such  enormous  pride,  had  not  yet  put 
in  an  appearance. 

By  now  it  was  the  latter  part  of  September,  and  the  situ- 
ation had  become  much  more  serious  than  ever.  Every 
day's  delay  was  costing  the  company  thousands  of  dollars. 
Several  of  the  largest  creditors  had  grown  tired  of  writing 
urgent  letters,  and  had  placed  their  accounts  with  Detroit 
law  firms.  What  with  staving  off  lawyers,  frantic  sales  rep- 
resentatives, and  Dun  and  Bradstreet  reporters,  Lee  led  a 
hounded  existence. 

The  bank's  attitude  troubled  him  especially.  The  notes 
for  one  hundred  and  fifty  thousand  dollars  which  he  had 
endorsed  were  to  mature  October  first,  only  a  few  days 
away.  When  he  sounded  the  president  and  cashier  about 
renewals,  they  were  unexpectedly  pessimistic. 

"Of  course,  we'd  like  to  accommodate  you,  Mr.  Hillquit," 
they  said,  "but  we  feel  we  really  ought  to  insist  on  pay- 
ment of  these  notes." 

"But  it's  practically  impossible!"  exclaimed  Lee. 

They  surveyed  his  anxious  face  with  apparent  concern. 
"Suppose  you  pay  half  the  face  of  notes,"  they  compro- 
mised. 

"That's  also  out  of  the  question,"  he  insisted. 

After  considerable  debate,  they  agreed  to  renew  the  notes 
for  sixty  days.    Lee  and  Will  Eaton  endorsed  the  new  notes 

263 


264  THE  GROPER 

October  first,  but  Fred  Badger  was  again  absent  from  the 
city  on  that  date,  and  did  not  affix  his  name  until  more 
than  a  week  later. 

Meanwhile,  a  thousand  Hillquit  cars — all  there  was  room 
for — stood  completely  assembled  in  the  factory,  waiting  only 
the  final  small  constituent  that  would  transform  them  from 
inanimate  junk  into  something  alive. 

Lee  kept  the  wires  hot  for  a  few  days,  then  caught  a 
sleeper  to  Chicago. 

The  president  of  the  carburetor  concern  was  a  large 
aggressive  individual  with  a  tumid  neck  and  a  heavy  bass 
voice.  He  resented  Lee's  belligerent  tone,  and  they  wrangled 
all  day. 

"Go  as  far  as  you  like,  Hillquit,"  said  the  carburetor 
manufacturer.  "We  have  more  profitable  business  on  our 
books  than  we  can  possibly  fill.  We're  doing  the  best  we 
can  with  your  order,  and  no  amount  of  your  bulldozing 
will  help  matters  a  particle." 

"But  just  think,  man!"  Lee  expostulated.  "Your  con- 
tract specifies  July  IS  as  the  date  of  our  first  shipment. 
You're  almost  three  months  late  now.  You've  lost  us  a  for- 
tune already.  It  means  bankruptcy  if  we  don't  get  car- 
buretors right  away." 

The  president  raised  his  eyebrows.  "I've  heard  some 
talk  about  your  being  in  hard  shape."  A  crafty  grin  over- 
spread his  face.  "Well,  Hillquit,  I  don't  see  how  you  can 
expect  us  to  break  our  necks  getting  out  stuff  for  a  doubt- 
ful concern  like  yours." 

"Oh,  we'll  be  all  right,  provided  we  can  get  carbure- 
tors," Lee  asserted. 

In  the  end,  the  aggressive  president  agreed  to  make  a 
shipment  by  the  middle  of  the  following  week,  without 
fail.  Lee  returned  to  Detroit,  hoping  for  the  best.  There 
was  really  very  little  more  he  could  do.  No  ordinary  car- 
buretors— even  if  he  could  have  bought  them — would  work 


THE  GROPER  265 

well  with  the  Hillquit  motor.     Legal  proceedings  would 
only  complicate  matters,  without  procuring  results. 

The  following  Monday  brought  a  disturbing  letter  from 
Chicago.    It  concluded  as  follows: 

The  investigation  of  your  financial  condition  confirms  our 
belief  that  we  should  be  running  too  much  of  a  risk  if  we 
made  shipments  to  you  on  the  usual  terms  of  credit.  We 
have  therefore  decided  that  we  must  ask  for  cash  payments 
in  advance  of  each  shipment. 

Lee's  exasperation  knew  no  bounds.  It  was  the  rawest 
kind  of  a  hold-up,  he  felt.  Besides,  the  Hillquit  Company's 
bank  balance  was  running  uncomfortably  low;  there  re- 
mained barely  enough  for  two  or  three  more  pay-rolls. 

Yet  there  seemed  no  solution  save  to  comply;  and  Tues- 
day night,  he  mailed  a  New  York  draft  for  twelve  thousand 
dollars  covering  a  first  shipment  of  two  thousand  carbure- 
tors. His  accompanying  letter  implored  immediate  ship- 
ment. 

An  agonising  fortnight  dragged  by  without  a  sign  of  the 
carburetors. 

On  October  20th,  Lee  received  a  letter  from  a  local  attor- 
ney who  represented  the  concern  that  had  supplied  rear 
axles.  The  account  amounted  to  fifty  thousand  dollars, 
and  the  lawyer  stated  that  unless  he  received  payment  in 
full  on  or  before  the  twenty-fifth  of  the  month,  he  would 
file  a  petition  in  bankruptcy  against  the  Hillquit  Com- 
pany. 

As  Lee  sat  staring  at  the  letter,  a  telegram  was  brought 
to  his  desk. 

Chicago,  Oct.  20,   1915. 

HAVE  SHIPPED  ONE  THOUSAND  CARBURETORS 
TO-DAY  VIA  MICHIGAN  CENTRAL.  ONE  THOU- 
SAND MORE  SATURDAY. 

SODERBERG  CARBURETOR  CO. 


266  THE  GROPER 

Lee  rushed  downtown  to  consult  Alpheus  Malcomson,  the 
corporation's  attorney. 

"If  they  ever  file  that  bankruptcy  petition,  it's  all  over 
with  you  people,"  commented  the  lawyer.  "You  see,  you're 
really  insolvent  this  minute.  The  only  chance  is  to  hold  a 
meeting  of  all  the  creditors,  and  try  to  get  them  to  agree 
to  hold  off  another  two  months  until  you've  had  a  chance 
to  sell  a  few  thousand  cars." 

He  telephoned  the  lawyer  who  had  threatened  bank- 
ruptcy proceedings. 

"Holderman  says  he'll  wait  until  the  creditors'  meeting 
before  he  does  anything,"  he  announced,  hanging  Up  the 
receiver.     "Now  let's  get  busy." 

Malcomson  and  Lee  drew  up  a  brief  statement  of  the 
company's  condition  and  mailed  it  to  all  the  creditors,  to- 
gether with  notice  of  a  meeting  to  be  held  a  week  later 
in  the  directors'  room  of  the  Hillquit  Company's  bank. 

Forty-two  creditors — all  but  four  of  the  entire  list — 
were  represented  at  the  meeting.  Alpheus  Malcomson  made 
a  short  opening  statement  setting  forth  the  objects  of  the 
meeting.  Then  Lee  related  in  detail  the  financial  situation 
of  the  corporation. 

"If  you  force  us  into  bankruptcy,"  he  concluded,  "our 
stock  will  only  bring  junk  prices,  and  you'll  be  lucky  if 
you  get  ten  cents  on  the  dollar.  But  if  you'll  all  take  ninety- 
day  notes  for  your  claims,  and  give  us  a  chance  to  finish 
and  sell  six  or  seven  thousand  cars,  you'll  get  every  cent 
that's  coming  to  you." 

One  or  two  of  the  attorneys  were  disposed  to  ask  em- 
barrassing questions  about  the  whys  and  wherefores  of  the 
corporation's  insolvency,  but  the  majority  seemed  to  accede 
to  Lee's  views.  When  the  final  vote  came,  every  creditor 
at  the  meeting  agreed  to  an  extension  of  three  months,  with 
the  stipulation  that  the  business  was  to  be  conducted  under 
the  advisory  supervision  of  a  committee  of  creditors. 


THE  GROPER  267 

Lee  returned  to  the  plant  next  morning,  almost  jubilant. 
He  was  confident  that  the  worst  was  over.  The  first  con- 
signment of  carburetors  had  come  in  a  week  ago,  and  al- 
ready a  thousand  Hillquit  cars  had  been  shipped  to  vora- 
cious agents  all  over  the  country.  The  second  thousand 
carburetors  had  arrived  that  very  morning,  he  found.  From 
now  on,  it  seemed  certain  that  the  factory's  output  would 
be  over  one  hundred  cars  a  day. 

At  the  end  of  November,  prospects  were  even  more  hope- 
ful. Thirty-six  hundred  machines  had  been  assembled  and 
shipped.  Money  was  beginning  to  pour  in  from  the  sales 
agencies.  Lee  and  Will  Eaton  were  talking  about  adding 
another  eight-hour  shift  and  doubling  the  output. 

On  the  thirteenth  of  November,  shortly  before  noon,  a 
telegram  arrived  from  the  Indianapolis  agent: 

MOTOR  TROUBLE  HAS  DEVELOPED  IN  EVERY 
CAR  SOLD.  THINK  CARBURETOR  IS  FAULTY. 
PLEASE  SEND  FACTORY  EXPERT  TO-NIGHT  SURE 

Lee  scowled  and  handed  the  telegram  to  Eaton. 

"Probably  a  very  simple  adjustment,"  commented  the 
Bostoner.  "Some  of  those  agents  can't  fix  even  a  punctured 
tire.    I'll  run  down  to  Indianapolis  myself,  if  necessary." 

During  the  afternoon,  three  more  telegrams  came  in  from 
other  cities  announcing  motor  trouble.  In  the  morning,  five 
similar  wires  followed  one  another  at  brief  intervals. 

"What  does  it  mean?"  gasped  Lee. 

Eaton  resorted  to  his  injured  expression.  "How  should 
I  know?  The  carburetors  are  all  right  and  the  motors  are 
equally  so.  Whatever  the  difficulty,  you  may  rest  assured 
it's  not  my  fault." 

Lee  repressed  an  angry  retort.  "Better  shoot  down  to 
Indianapolis  to-night,"  he  counselled.  "It's  probably  some 
very  simple  matter,  just  as  you  suggest." 

The  next  day,  after  Eaton's  departure,  his  chief  assistant 
entered  Lee's  office  with  a  worried  look. 


268  THE  GROPER 

"Riker,  the  Detroit  sales  agent,  is  on  the  wire,"  he  set 
forth.  "Says  he's  overrun  with  complaints  about  the  mo- 
tor.   Do  you  think  I'd  better  run  down  and  have  a  look?" 

"Yes,  I  do,"  said  Lee  grimly.  "I  also  think  I'd  better 
go  with  you." 

Riker  was  a  tall,  good-looking  young  man  with  the  auto- 
mobile salesman's  characteristic  optimism  and  "pep."  But 
when  he  greeted  Lee  and  the  assistant  designer,  his  expres- 
sion was  noticeably  despondent. 

"I've  sold  fifty  cars  so  far  this  month,  and  every  single 
owner  is  on  my  neck.    It's  getting  my  goat." 

"What's  the  matter?"  Lee  demanded. 

"The  damned  cars  just  won't  run,"  vituperated  Riker. 
"At  least  they  won't  run  right.  The  motor  seems  to  choke, 
and  you  can't  get  more  than  six  miles  out  of  a  gallon  of 
gas.    No  man  can  sell  cars  like  that  in  1915,  believe  me." 

He  led  the  way  to  the  repair  shop  in  the  rear  of  the 
spacious  sales-room,  and  paused  at  the  side  of  a  new 
touring  car. 

"Hop  in,"  he  directed,  and  drove  them  around  the  block. 

Riker's  description  proved  no  exaggeration.  The  motor 
coughed,  spat,  jerked  spasmodically. 

Lee  took  the  salesman  aside. 

"Just  between  you  and  me,  Riker,"  he  said,  "what's  the 
real  trouble  with  these  cars?" 

Riker  met  his  eye.  "If  you  ask  me — it's  that  fool  car- 
buretor. I  don't  know  who's  responsible  for  sticking  a  con- 
traption like  that  on  the  engine — maybe  you're  the  goat — 
but  it's  a  cinch  that  the  man  who  did  it  don't  know  any- 
thing about  automobiles.  The  car's  going  to  be  a  flat 
failure  until  you  get  a  new  carburetor.  And  that's  the 
straight  dope,  Mr.  Hillquit." 

Lee  found  two  more  querulous  telegrams  waiting  for  him 
at  his  office. 

It  seemed  to  him  that  this  new  development  was  the 


THE  GROPER  269 

last  straw.  He  felt  like  giving  up.  The  company  could 
weather  no  new  storm,  however  slight. 

Then  he  shut  his  jaws  hard.  Lee  Hillquit,  the  "Motor 
Monarch,"  the  "Boy  Napoleon  of  Finance,"  beaten  and 
discredited?  No,  it  couldn't  be.  His  remarkable  abilities 
would  pull  the  company  through  to  success,  even  now. 

For  two  more  days,  this  obsession  that  somehow  he  was 
invincible,  kept  him  fighting,  planning. 

On  the  third  day,  a  deputy  United  States  Marshal  served 
him  with  notice  that  one  of  the  four  creditors  not  repre- 
sented at  the  meeting  had  that  morning  filed  a  petition  in 
bankruptcy  against  the  Hillquit  Motor  Company. 


IV 

WITHIN  the  week,  Lee  was  almost  penniless  again. 
Upon  the  advice  of  Alpheus  Malcomson,   the 
Hillquit  Motor  Company  did  not  contest  the 
bankruptcy  proceedings. 

"You're  insolvent,  all  right,"  said  the  attorney,  "and 
you'll  only  be  wasting  time  and  money  if  you  put  up  a 
fight." 

The  company's  failure  automatically  wiped  out  Lee's  hold- 
ings of  stock  amounting  to  three  hundred  and  fifty  thou- 
sand dollars.  In  addition,  the  bank  made  claim  against  him 
on  his  endorsement  of  the  company's  note  for  one  hundred 
and  fifty  thousand.  For  a  day  or  so  he  made  frantic  efforts  to 
force  Fred  Badger  to  contribute  his  share  of  this  amount. 
Then  Fred's  attorney  wrote  to  Lee  setting  forth  that  his 
client's  endorsement  was  invalid  because  it  had  not  been 
given  until  after  the  negotiation  of  the  note,  and  that  Fred 
therefore  refused  absolutely  to  make  any  settlement. 

Will  Eaton  was  uncollectible,  and  the  whole  burden  de- 
volved on  Lee.  The  bank  was  already  a  heavy  loser  on 
the  company's  unendorsed  notes,  and  Lee  felt  obligated  to 
make  prompt  settlement  of  his  personal  indebtedness.  He 
turned  over  everything  he  possessed  in  the  world — real 
estate,  Durham  motor  stock,  and  a  few  miscellaneous  stocks 
and  bonds.  The  bank  was  to  realize  on  these  assets  as 
rapidly  as  possible,  and  account  to  him  for  any  balance. 
Lee's  collateral  was  worth  at  least  two  hundred  thousand 
dollars;  but  on  forced  sale,  it  was  dubious  whether  it  would 
bring  enough  to  pay  the  endorsed  notes. 

270 


THE  GROPER  271 

He  was  furious  at  Fred  Badger,  and  consulted  Malcomson 
about  the  legal  aspects  of  the  controversy. 

"Ordinarily,  that's  a  good  technical  defence — trust  your 
friend  Badger  for  that."  The  lawyer  waxed  profane.  "But 
in  this  case,  where  you  three  all  agreed  in  advance  to  endorse 
these  notes,  I  think  we  have  a  chance  of  sticking  him.  At 
that,  I'll  bet  he's  got  his  property  tucked  away  in  his  wife's 
name,  so  that  he'll  be  judgment-proof.  We'll  give  him  a 
run  for  his  money,  anyhow." 

His  financial  downfall  was  hard  enough  for  Lee  to  endure; 
but  the  hurt  to  his  pride  was  ineffably  worse.  The  news- 
papers were  irritating.  After  the  first  shock  of  surprise, 
their  attitude  toward  him  became  more  and  more  con- 
temptuous. They  were  calling  him  the  "Would-be  Auto- 
mobile Magnate,"  "Soap-bubble  Hillquit,"  and  other  names. 
One  consciously  righteous  sheet  ran  a  long  editorial  on  the 
folly  of  "this  much-heralded  and  much  over-rated  young 
man.  May  his  pitiful  collapse  be  a  lesson  in  conservatism 
to  the  youth  of  Detroit!" 

This  attitude  was  reflected,  for  the  most  part  covertly, 
throughout  the  whole  city.  Lee  noticed  that  many  of  his 
friends — particularly  those  in  "Society" — failed  to  recognise 
him  on  the  streets.  A  more  serious  manifestation  of  the 
public's  hostility  crytallised  in  the  bankruptcy  proceedings. 
At  the  first  meeting  of  creditors,  a  certain  combative  lawyer 
representing  several  claimants  announced  that  he  expected 
to  prove  that  the  officers  of  the  Hillquit  Company  had  been 
guilty  of  such  gross  mismanagement  and  negligence  that 
they  could  be  held  individually  liable  for  the  corporation's 
debts. 

For  three  days,  Lee,  on  the  witness  stand,  was  hectored 
and  browbeaten  by  this  quarrelsome  attorney — his  weak- 
nesses and  ignorance  as  an  administrative  officer  laid  bare 
to  the  public,  his  errors  of  commission  and  omission  sneered 
at.    In  reality,  there  was  no  evidence  of  the  sort  of  mis- 


272  THE  GROPER 

management  that  was  being  charged  against  him,  but  th« 
combative  lawyer,  working  hand-and-glove  with  the  news- 
paper reporters,  succeeded  in  securing  the  publicity  that 
he  coveted  for  himself. 

As  usual,  Lee  had  to  take  the  entire  load.  Fred  Badger 
was  asked  only  a  few  perfunctory  questions  on  the  stand; 
and  from  the  attorney's  possession  of  certain  "inside"  facts 
about  the  company's  history,  Lee  suspected  that  Fred  had 
furnished  the  information  and  thereby  purchased  immunity 
for  himself.  Will  Eaton  had  left  the  city  shortly  after  the 
first  crash,  and  betaken  himself  back  to  Boston,  strewing  in 
his  wake  certain  uncomplimentary  references  to  "gauche, 
loud-mouthed  Westerners," 


a 

IT  happened  to  be  the  afternoon  of  the  day  before 
Christmas  when  Lee  was  finally  excused  from  the  wit- 
ness stand  in  the  Referee  in  Bankruptcy's  office.  Sick 
at  heart,  sore  of  spirit — smarting  from  a  hundred  wounds  to 
his  pride — he  debouched  irresolutely  upon  the  street. 

He  paused  to  light  his  pipe,  then  bethought  himself  of 
a  note  that  had  been  handed  him  just  before  he  began 
his  concluding  testimony.  The  message  proved  to  be  from 
Howard  Doman. 

"Dear  Ijee:^ 

Can  you  stop  in  for  a  moment  this  afternoon?    I  wan* 
to  see  you. 

Doman." 

Lee  returned  the  letter  to  his  pocket  and  began  walking 
slowly  toward  Woodward  avenue.  On  every  street-corner, 
he  heard  newsboys  crying — saw  black  head-lines: 

HILLQUIT  IS  SHOWN  UP, 

He  sighed  wearily. 

All  at  once,  he  espied  a  familiar  figure  half  a  block  away. 
Swift  recognition  came  to  him.  It  was  Bob  Hamilton— 
in  some  sort  of  uniform,  it  appeared. 

Bob  had  seen  him,  too;  and  they  hurried  up  to  each 
other.  Presently  Lee  made  out  the  words  on  Bob's  visored 
cap:   "Salvation  Army." 

Seven  years  had  worked  recognisable  changes  in  both  of 
them,  and  in  the  midst  of  their  fervent  hand-shaking,  they 

273 


274  THE  GROPER 

were  unconsciously  studying  one  another's  faces.  Bob 
looked  older.  There  were  new  lines  about  his  eyes  and 
mouth.  His  face  was  thinner.  Somehow  the  new  lines 
and  the  thinness  combined  into  an  expression  of  strength, 
of  assurance.  His  old  self-distrust  was  gone.  His  lower 
lip  had  ceased  to  tremble.  His  voice  was  steady.  From 
the  eyes  that  used  to  grow  moist  with  the  sense  of  failure 
now  emanated  a  look  of  radiant  tranquillity. 

He  told  Lee  that  after  his  sudden  disappearance  he  had 
just  drifted  for  a  time. 

"One  day  the  Lord  spoke  to  me,"  he  said.  "I  think  He'd 
been  speaking  to  me  ail  my  life — only  I  hadn't  listened. 
And  He'd  caused  all  my  seeming  failures.  He'd  been  direct- 
ing my  whole  life,  but  I  didn't  realise  it.  On  this  particular 
day,  the  Vision  came  to  me  at  last — just  as  it  did  to  Saul — 
and  I  understood.  And  now  I  feel  He's  close  to  me  every 
hour  of  the  day." 

Bob's  conversion  had  occurred  at  a  Salvation  Army  meet- 
ing four  years  back,  and  he  had  promptly  joined  the 
organisation. 

"You  look  happy,"  Lee  observed. 

"I  am  very  happy,"  said  Bob.  "I'm  doing  His  work  and 
I'm  under  His  guidance.  Perhaps  you  don't  know  what  a 
sense  of  peace  that  can  give  a  man  Duties  that  might  seem 
disagreeable  to  you  are  my  life's  greatest  joy — helping  the 
wretched,  the  poor,  the  sinful." 

Lee  felt  controversial.  "But  do  you  think  they're  worth 
it?" 

"Worth  it?"  Bob  seemed  vastly  surprised.  "Of  course 
they're  worth  it!     Every  one  of  them  is  a  child  of  God." 

The  two  friends  said  good-bye  at  length;  and  Lee  con- 
tinued his  walk,  consumed  with  wonder  at  their  odd  meeting 
and  his  old  roommate's  curious  destiny.  Bob,  it  was  evi- 
dent, was  tingling  with  happiness.  His  transcendent  faith 
seemed  to  have  solved  his  problem  of  life.    His  ecstasy  of 


THE  GROPER  275 

spirit  was  unmistakable.  Yet  Lee  remained  far  from  con- 
vinced. Bob's  talk  about  "Him"  impressed  Lee  as  over- 
emotional,  almost  maudlin. 

"It's  just  a  kind  of  self-hypnosis,"  he  reasoned.  "Bob's 
just  kidding  himself.  As  for  me — I  want  the  truth.  I'll 
take  life  with  eyes  wide  open  and  without  any  mental 
drugs — no  matter  how  much  it  hurts." 

He  continued  on  thus,  till  he  came  to  the  great  store 
of  Curran  &  Company.  He  had  hardly  set  foot  inside  it 
since  the  death  of  Michael  Curran,  but  he  was  familiar 
with  its  wonderful  growth  and  prosperity.  Howard  Doman 
had  taken  over  all  of  the  upper  floors  of  the  adjacent  build- 
ings, and  thus  doubled  the  original  floor-space. 

Just  outside  the  big  entrance-ways  that  were  sucking  in 
and  spewing  out  the  thousands  of  Christmas  shoppers,  Lee 
hesitated.  A  sense  of  overpowering  confusion  rushed  over 
him.  The  ordeal  of  returning  to  the  scrutiny  of  all  the 
employes,  a  deeply  disgraced  and  toppled  idol,  transfixed 
him  with  aversion. 

Once  inside,  though,  he  found  himself  greeted  warmly 
by  an  aisle-manager,  saluted  with  the  same  old  friendly 
deference  by  an  elevator  boy,  and  recognised  without  overt 
disdain  by  a  dozen  others.  Somehow  the  atmosphere  of  the 
place  was  unmistakably  cordial — almost  homelike.  Even 
the  familiar  pervasive  smell  of  drygoods  enveloped  him 
pleasantly. 

Howard  Doman  broke  up  an  important  conference  of 
department  buyers  to  give  him  immediate  audience.  "Lee, 
my  boy,  it's  a  treat  to  set  eyes  on  you."  He  stood  for  a 
moment  surveying  his  former  assistant  with  affectionate 
regard. 

Almost  at  once  he  came  to  the  point.  "I  want  you  back 
here  with  us,  Lee,"  he  said.  "I've  been  wanting  you  back 
ever  since  you  left.    Will  you  come?" 

Profoundly  deep  gratitude  made  speech  difficult  for  Lee. 


276  THE  GROPER 

He  gripped  the  arms  of  his  chair  hard  for  a  moment.  "I 
don't  know,"  he  finally  managed.  "I  don't  seem  to  have 
much  ambition  for  anything  right  now.  I've  thought  some 
of  opening  an  advertising  office  of  my  own — as  a  free 
lance." 

Doman  sat  studying  his  face.  "Better  wait  a  year  or  two 
for  that,"  he  counselled,  "till  the  wolves  stop  yelping  at 
your  heels.  Besides,  there's  so  much  more  need  for  you 
right  here  at  Curran's.  I'm  trying  to  do  big  new  things. 
It'll  be  a  man's  size  job  for  you — and  a  lot  more  vital  than 
writing  ads.  Then,  too,  the  human  contact  will  help  you  a 
lot." 

Lee  stood  up  suddenly.  He  was  afraid  of  bursting  into 
tears.  "I'll  let  you  know  before  New  Year's,"  he  decided. 
"My  answer  will  probably  be  'yes' — though  I'm  not  at  all 
fooled  by  all  this  talk  about  Curran's  needing  me.    Anyway, 

I  can't  tell  you "    His  fatal  habit  of  gulping  abruptly 

strangled  his  speech. 

"None  of  that!"  Howard  Doman  clapped  him  on  the 
shoulder.  "I'm  purely  selfish  about  it.  I'm  looking  for  a 
first  class  man  to  take  my  place  five  or  ten  years  from 
now."  His  alive  perceptive  eyes  softened  with  understand- 
ing. "You  know,  Lee — you've  grown  up  since  I  last  saw 
you.  You've  had  the  one  thing  you  needed — a  big,  sobering 
smash-up — every  good  man  must  have  it  before  he  can 
come  into  his  own — and  now  at  last  you've  really  begun  to 
live." 


VI 

A  LITTLE  later  Lee  ate  at  a  serve-self  restaurant,  and 
then  set  out  in  the  general  direction  of  the  inex- 
pensive rooms  he  had  rented — not  far,  it  happened, 
from  Mrs.  Holmes'  house,  his  first  Detroit  residence. 

Darkness  had  come  on  and  it  was  beginning  to  snow — a 
soft  powdery  snow  that  settled  down  swiftly  and  silently 
over  the  city.  The  downtown  streets  were  packed  with  a 
jostling,  slow-moving  mass  of  late  Christmas  shoppers — a 
colorful,  absorbing,  kaleidoscopic  flux  of  humanity.  He 
looked  at  the  people's  faces,  finding  an  inexhaustible  inter- 
est in  capturing  some  fugitive  hint  of  the  riddle  of  a 
thousand  different  personalities  They  were  all  so  different 
from  one  another,  these  people.  Each  one  of  them  had 
some  precious,  elusive  essence  that  distinguished  him  from 
his  fellows. 

It  struck  him  that  the  crowds  were  better-natured  than 
usual.  He  saw  few  sombre  faces.  Every  one  was  laughing 
and  talking  vociferously.  Lee  was  bewildered  until  he  re- 
membered the  season.  Christmas — that  was  the  solution. 
Next  week,  perhaps,  all  these  faces  would  resume  the  mask 
of  infelicity;  but  to-night  the  spirit  of  love  beguiled  them 
into  happiness. 

It  was  a  queer  puzzle,  he  reflected. 

He  left  the  downtown  section  and  continued  on  rather 
aimlessly,  his  intellect  grappling  with  the  occurrences  of  the 
day— his  trying  hours  on  the  witness  stand,  his  curious 
encounter  with  Bob  Hamilton,  his  reinvigorating  talk  with 
Howard  Doman — attempting,  as  was  his  mental  habit,  to 
find  the  logical  sequence  of  things. 

277 


278  THE  GROPER 

His  truant  mind  began  straying  back  over  the  events  of 
his  eight  years  in  the  city — his  first  high  hopes  and  striv- 
ings, his  thwarted  pettinesses  and  vanities,  his  struttings  and 
posings,  his  blindnesses  and  stupidities,  his  profound  and 
bitter  disillusions. 

"A  groper,"  he  whispered  to  himself,  "now  and  always — i 
stumbling,  floundering,  following  false  lights,  at  intervals 
catching  a  real  gleam  of  truth.  And  I  am  all  men — blind 
and  stupid  and  only  half  awake — creeping  forward  and 
upward  an  inch  or  two  each  hundred  years.    Gropers  all." 

Vera,  his  dead  mother,  Oscar  Eberenz,  Hauxhurst,  O'Neill, 
Mrs.  Curran — how  the  portraits  began  trailing  across  the 
screen  of  his  memory,  as  he  trudged  vaguely  on  through  the 
snow.  Dolores,  Howard  Doman,  Fred  Badger  and  Helene, 
Inga  Brandt,  Mike  Curran,  Ellwood  James — how  they 
tumbled  over  one  another,  without  reason  or  consecutive- 
ness,  into  one  strange  phantasmagoria.  Still  they  came: 
Bob  Hamilton,  Bernice  Kohler,  Will  Eaton,  Renee  Reynolds, 
Eleanor  Badger — most  inscrutable  and  inexplicable  of  all. 
Puppet-like  they  had  come  and  gone  on  the  stage  of  his 
life,  each  with  his  little  bow,  her  little  mental  gesture.  Each 
had  left  his  little  impress  on  Lee's  soul,  then  vanished. 
Were  they  real — or  were  they  dreams  of  his? 

He  speculated,  with  a  detached  interest,  along  what  paths 
his  future  lay  predestined — whether  he  could  ever  break 
through  and  shake  off  the  encompassing  chrysalis  that  stifled 
him,  and  come  at  least  partially  to  himself.  "You've  grown 
up,"  Doman  had  said.  He  questioned  the  truth  of  this. 
He  knew  he  felt  older,  less  mercurial,  a  little  more  patient 
and  reconciled  with  life,  perhaps;  but  he  could  as  yet  find 
within  himself  no  tranquillity,  no  self-sufficiency  or  cer- 
tainty, no  spiritual  poise. 

He  continued  his  tramp,  unconscious  of  time  and  distance, 
a  solitary  figure  holding  the  film  of  life  up  to  what  light 
he  had,  striving  passionately  to  decipher  some  inkling  of 


THE  GROPER  279 

its  meaning.  The  material  aspects  of  existence  fell  away 
from  him.    He  became  a  disembodied  mind. 

All  at  once  the  sound  of  music  brought  him  out  of  himself. 

Across  the  street  a  group  of  people  carrying  lanterns  were 
singing  a  Christmas  carol: 

Noel!   Noel!    Noel!    Noel! 
Born  is  the  King  of  Israel! 

He  stopped  and  listened.  The  softly  falling  snow,  the 
simple  loveliness  of  the  old  carol,  the  spirit  of  the  thing, 
all  gripped  him  indescribably. 

The  sight  or  sound  of  real  beauty  in  any  form  always 
seemed  to  carry  him  back  momentarily  to  his  last  days  at 
Chatham,  to  those  few  final  hours  when  Vera  and  he  had 
felt  the  ecstasy  of  first  love.  He  wondered  where  she  was 
this  magical  Christmas  Eve.  He  had  not  seen  her  since 
he  had  helped  her  get  her  divorce. 

Quite  unaccountably  her  words  flashed  into  his  mind:  "I 
have  implicit  faith  in  you."  He  wished  fervently  that  she 
might  be  with  him  now,  listening  to  the  Christmas  waits. 
They  had  turned  a  corner,  but  he  still  caught  their  faint 
carol: 

Noel!   Noel!    Noel!    Noel! 
Born  is  the  King  of  Israel! 

He  took  note  of  his  whereabouts  for  the  first  time,  cut 
across  to  Woodward  avenue  and  began  walking  toward  his 
rooms.  It  had  grown  late.  Quite  inadvertently  he  observed 
the  glaring  lights  of  a  small  moving-picture  theatre  just 
ahead  of  him. 

As  he  passed  the  theatre,  a  woman  hurried  out  of  the 
exit-door,  half  slipped  on  the  icy  entrance-way,  and  col- 
lided violently  with  him. 

"I  beg  your  pardon,"  she  said. 

It  was  Vera. 


280  THE  GROPER 

They  walked  down  the  avenue  together.  The  last  time 
he  had  seen  her,  she  had  appeared  half-dazed,  crushed, 
somewhat  slatternly  in  her  dress.  But  now  her  mood  was 
almost  volatile,  and  her  tailored  suit  trim  and  attractive. 
All  traces  of  her  incipient  grossness  of  body  had  vanished. 

She  had  read  of  Lee's  financial  troubles.  "I'm  awfully 
aorry,"  she  said.  "I  didn't  believe  a  word  they  printed 
about  you." 

A  few  corners  farther  on,  she  paused.  "This  is  my 
6treet."  An  idea  reflected  itself  in  her  face.  "Don't  you 
want  to  come  up  to  the  room  a  minute  and  see  him?" 

"Who?"  asked  Lee. 

"Why— the  baby!"  she  laughed. 

The  slight  tension  between  them  broke  down.  As  they 
took  to  the  cross-street,  Vera  explained  that  she  looked  after 
the  baby  mornings,  but  in  the  afternoons  and  evenings,  when 
she  had  to  play  at  the  "movie,"  the  landlady's  daughter 
assumed  control.  "He  sleeps  most  of  the  afternoon  and 
night  anyway,"  she  added.  "It's  not  ideal,  of  course,  but 
it'll  have  to  do  for  the  present." 

They  came  to  a  dingy  brick  rooming  house  and  climbed 
two  flights  of  dark  stairs  to  Vera's  shabby  little  bedroom. 

The  baby  was  crying,  it  happened;  and  Lee  noted  the 
eager  swift  movement  with  which  Vera  took  him  away 
from  the  loose- jointed,  untidy  landlady's  daughter. 

"He's  a-been  carryin'  on  this  way  ever  since  you  left," 
reported  the  girl,  and  disappeared. 

Almost  at  once,  the  baby  began  smiling  through  his  tears. 

Lee  stood  by,  with  a  sense  of  being  wholly  superfluous. 
He  glanced  about  him.  The  room  looked  very  bare  in  the 
gas-light.  For  furniture  it  contained  a  cheap  bureau  and 
wash-stand,  a  cheaper  iron  bedstead  and  a  couple  of  chairs. 
Yet  he  could  not  help  observing  the  scrupulous  neatness  of 
the  place. 

"What's  his  name?"  he  thought  to  ask. 


THE  GROPER  281 

"I  hope  you  won't  mind,"  she  said,  and  her  face  became 
a  trifle  worried.    "I  called  him  Lee." 

He  was  aware  of  an  instant's  extreme  repugnance,  but  he 
came  up  to  the  mark  nobly.  "I'm  very  proud  to  have  a 
baby  of  yours  named  after  me,"  he  asserted. 

The  baby  kicked  and  gurgled  violently  just  then,  and 
Vera  completely  forgot  her  guest  once  more.  He  watched 
her  with  deeper  and  deeper  admiration.  Life  had  done  its 
cruellest  to  this  woman,  yet  somehow  the  fire  had  refined 
and  seasoned  her,  made  her  strong  of  heart  and  pure  of 
soul.  The  perception  of  her  courage  and  stalwart  self- 
reliance,  her  inexhaustible  wealth  of  tenderness,  left  him 
unspeakably  moved. 

She  turned  to  him. 

"Isn't  he  the  most  wonderful  baby  in  the  world?"  she 
demanded. 

Lee  took  one  of  his  namesake's  tiny  fingers  in  his  hand. 
"Poor  little  fatherless  tike,"  he  said  to  himself;  but  to  Vera, 
he  agreed,  with  impeccable  gravity:  "The  most  wonderful, 
by  far." 

After  a  moment,  he  took  up  his  hat.  "Do  you  know, 
Vera,"  he  said,  "I've  never  seen  any  one  look  happier  than 
you  do  this  instant — with  that  baby  in  your  arms." 

"Happy?"  She  laughed,  then  held  the  baby  aloft  in  her 
arms  and  gazed  up  at  him  adoringly.  "I've  never  known 
what  real  happiness  was  till  now,  Lee.  Why,  I've  just 
begun  to  live." 

"Just  begun  to  live?"  He  looked  at  her  intently.  "That's 
exactly  what  a  man  told  me  about  myself  a  few  hours 
ago." 

An  even  greater  light  came  into  her  eyes.  "I  believe 
it's  true,"  she  said,  as  she  held  out  her  hand  to  him  in 
farewell. 

Suddenly  and  quite  unaccountably,  a  vivid  picture  leaped 
into  his  mind — the  image  of  Vera  and  himself  on  Mount 


282  THE  GROPER 

Phillis  that  last  Sunday  afternoon.  And  now,  eight  long 
and  painful  years  afterwards,  they  faced  each  other  in  this 
dreary  little  room,  standing  beside  Vera's  cheap  iron  bed- 
stead. 

"I've  always  had  implicit  faith  we  would  both  really  begin 
to  live  some  day,"  Vera  added,  and  looked  up  at  him 
proudly. 

At  her  look,  Lee  became  conscious  of  something  new 
and  inexplicable  taking  form  within  him — the  germ  of  a 
regenerating  faith  in  himself,  the  first  faint  intimations  of 
the  fundamental  integrity  of  his  own  lonely  soul.  Then  a 
tremendous  wave  of  feeling  welled  up  in  him,  quenched  a 
last  lingering  whisper  of  skepticism,  of  self-abasement,  and 
rushed  out  tumultuously  to  meet  the  pride  and  the  tender- 
ness— and  the  unspoken  need  of  his  help — in  her  eyes. 

"Vera,"  he  said,  and  took  her  hand. 

He  watched  her  expression  slowly  change,  as  she  stood 
there — her  face  illumined  in  the  yellow  gas-light,  her  left 
arm  clasping  the  baby  tightly,  her  right  hand  beginning  to 
tremble  a  little  in  his — the  bewilderment  in  her  eyes  grad- 
ually giving  place  to  a  look  of  certitude,  of  joyous  self- 
surrender. 


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